


Wrath Of God and All Its Fury

by IJustWriteHere (orphan_account)



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, Clover Ebi Lives, F/M, Gen, God consort, Horror, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutilation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Qrow Branwen Needs a Hug, Qrow Branwen Swears, Qrow Protection Squad, Supernatural Elements, Temptation, Volume 3 (RWBY), Volume 7 (RWBY), multiple stories same fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/IJustWriteHere
Summary: The Gods of Remnant left their fair planet a long time ago. So long in fact, that the fact of their existence has passed into myth, joined by inferior deities. While the God of Light left behind four Relics to assist mankind in their own reformation and to summon the twin gods back to judge their creations, the God of Darkness left his own arcane secret behind.Though his elder had always had the adoration of their joint creation, the many years in their self-imposed exile has taught the God of Darkness that he rather enjoyed domination over mortals of a subtler, more intimate kind.A temptation for any mortal who stumbles upon it; Power and pleasure beyond wonder. For those few mortals who could withstand its trial, that is...PLEASE NOTE: CHANGED TAGS. NO LONGER EXPLICIT. MATURE THEMES WILL REMAIN.Current stories contained within:Frozen Secrets - V7 AUDark Hearts - V3 AU
Relationships: James Ironwood & Winter Schnee, Qrow Branwen & Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen & James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen & Ozpin, Qrow Branwen & Ruby Rose, Qrow Branwen/God of Darkness, Weiss Schnee & Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 109
Kudos: 75





	1. Frozen Secrets Pt 1 - Slippery Slope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beware_The_Tristero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beware_The_Tristero/gifts).



> This was heavily inspired by Beware_The_Tristero and all credit for the original idea goes to them.
> 
> Please comment on their stuff, its amazing! :D

Qrow wasn’t exactly sure what compelled him to take this mission alone. Maybe he just wanted some time to think. A lot had happened in the last few months, everything seemed to be going too fast for him to get his bearings.

After the massive catastrophe that was Haven, Leo's betrayal, the journey to Argus and the disastrous liberation of the Atlesian Manta Ray transport to haul ass to Atlas, they arrived to discover a whole new host of problems.  Problems that required a deft diplomatic hand and political compromise. 

Both traits James Ironwood singularly _lacked_. 

Over their long years of friendship and working relations, the one thing that crystallised in Qrow’s mind was that the Atlesian General was not one for subtlety.  Not that Qrow didn’t respect the man’s skills as a field commander on an open battlefield, in games of shadows, backstabbing and dirty underground wards, he was simply out of his depth. 

Mantle’s scars from racial disputes, economic division and Atlesian exploitation simply ran too deep for them to fall in line with their sister city’s leadership without complaint. On the other hand, Atlas’ elites were too entrenched in their ‘superior status’ and materialistic hoarding that the greedy sons of bitches weren’t willing to spend a single Lien towards their fellows’ troubles.

Still, Qrow couldn’t exactly blame Ironwood. The poor bastard was trapped in a damned unenviable position. Half the population hated him, the other half wanted him out of power. Hell, Qrow was sure he would've crawled back inside a bottle and never come out if he were in James' position. Singularly unenviable. 

And the sheer joy on his face when he thought the Old man was back? Well, Qrow wasn’t ashamed to admit that broke his heart a little.

James was a good man, and under more stress than any of them; as an Academy Leader, as a General and a Council representative combined. As much as Qrow wanted to reveal the truth to the man about Oz’s secrets? About Ozma, and Salem, the relics and everything in between? Well - Qrow remembered just how poorly _he_ reacted to the whole affair. And he was damned sure that Oscar’s poor face remembered too.

Honestly, Qrow probably took this scouting run just to get the hell away from it all. Life was depressing enough without adding the drama of politics on top. 

He was no great fan of Atlas, not much a fan of Mantle either, though he preferred the latter of the two. Atlas was full of stuffed shirts and Mantle was hard and dirty, a lot closer to the kind of environment Qrow felt comfortable in. Still, he would've preferred to be in either place right now, rather than freezing his ass off in the tundra. 

When he took the search and rescue assignment, he thought he'd just be scouring the boarder settlements in Mantle and maybe if he dragged Clover's ass along with him, the mission would've gone that smoothly.  Alas, without pretty boy and his good luck to balance out Qrow's bad, the mission simply dragged on and on. He didn't want to be cynical - scratch that, he didn't want to be _fatalistic_ , but he was a trained Huntsman and freezing his ass off despite his aura protection. He doubted a group of civilians could've lasted half as long as he was, especially at this time of night.

Qrow resolved to search for an hour or so more, while the last rays of afternoon sun could still illuminate the way. In the distance, he noticed an outcropping of rocks, like a budding mountain. Perhaps there were caves somewhere in there? Maybe the missing expedition took shelter in there from the brewing blizzard and nighttime cold? It was about as good a guess as any. So, buffeted by as he was the wind, Qrow made his slow progress over to the formation.

Qrow’s luck, however, had different plans. The sheets of ice and snow beneath his feet cracked like thunder under his weight. So sudden and swift in fact, that he barely had time to conjure his transformation powers before the ground beneath him collapsed completely. 

With a yelp, he found himself skidding down a sleep ice-slide, deeper into the newly formed crevasse.

"AH!" The ice-slide came to a sudden sharp stop with a curve that sent him a metre into the air. 

The avian Huntsman thanked whatever gods were looking out for him that no one was here to witness the rather undignified mewling sound he made when he landed on his haunches. The hard thump which knocked the wind out of him for a moment and he struggled to regain his breath.

After a long pause where he finally managed to get control, hoist himself gingerly to his feet and dust off the ice chips on his back and legs. 

"Fuck...." He hissed. 

Qrow reached into his pocket to retrieve his scroll and send for help, but when he pulled the thing out, it split into two pieces in his palm. He rolled his crimson eyes with a scoff.

“‘Cutting edge’ my ass.”

Pocketing the broken thing, and making a mental note to complain to James later, Qrow H took a few steps back towards the accused ice slide that brought him into this cavern and peered up scrutinizingly. He guessed he must’ve fell about a hundred or so metres, but he could still see the sky above, albeit a tiny speck of it.

“Well, if I need to haul ass out of here, I know where to go.” He concluded then turned back to the icy cave. It was oddly lit for how deep it was, and the time of night. Almost as if the ice formations themselves contained some form of dust or another that reacted to his presence. 

“Odds are the poor bastard saw that formation too, fell into this cavern and got trapped with no escape…” He mused out loud, still he wasn’t one to throw caution to the wind.

With Harbinger ready and on guard, Qrow made his way deeper into the cavern. It was smaller than he expected. Once he passed the first opening, he approached what appeared to be the main chamber. 

Horror struck. His crimson eyes scanning around the cavernous space, littered by frozen skeletons, rime-covered weaponry and spent dust shells. All of them seemed to be blasted from the centre of the chamber, which sat a formation of black and red crystal which was raised up like a podium. Hovering just above that, and emitting an ephemeral red-black light, was yet another crystal.

It had to be some form of dust. 

Qrow could feel the power radiating from it even at this distance, and something, a tiny little feeling, within him seemed to pull towards it. He shook his head from his momentary trance, pointedly looking away from the crystal no bigger than his palm.

“What the hell is this…?” He hissed.

“This is the price of corruption. And failure.” A voice echoed throughout the cave and Qrow spun on his heel until he found the source. On the other side of the cavern was a man, dressed in unseasonable clothing. He wore a simple suit and buttoned shirt as if this was a boardroom or domestic office rather than an icy tomb. Qrow frowned, he looked at the man’s face, but no matter how hard he tried to focus, the image simply wouldn't resolve in his eyes. 

It was like when Cinder and her lackeys attacked Amber. Was it a semblance? Or some illusion dust?

“Look pal, I don’t know who you are, but you better tell me what the hell happened here? Did you kill these people?” Qrow’s red eyes flickered around to the skeletons. He counted twelve bodies, there were twelve missing civilians in the expedition he was tracking down.

Far from offended, the man simply laughed off the accusation. “Perish the thought. I am no monster.”

“Then what are you?” Qrow readjusted his grip on Harbinger, ready to pounce and make a killing blow if that’s what it took.

The man’s voice was smooth like silk. “My name is Tabris Nox, and I would very much like a word with you, young Qrow Branwen.”


	2. Frozen Secrets Pt 2 - Tabris Nox

"Who the hell are you?"

Qrow's low threatening growl was amplified by the ice cavern's acoustics. Harbinger was raised in an aggressive posture and his crimson eyes were narrowed dangerously.

The man offered his arms up, palms open as if to emphasize how little of a threat he posed. A hollow plot since the Huntsman could sense something... _strange_ about him. The truth was Qrow couldn't tell if this man was powerful or not. It was like he was staring at the surface of a vast yet calm ocean.

"I have already answered your question, little bird. My name is Tabris Nox, and I would very much enjoy the change to have a word with you, young Qrow."

A scowl etched on Qrow's face and he slowly circled the chamber, around the central crystal pedestal where the strange black and red dust hovered. Though it was no bigger than his palm, the crystal radiated more volatile power than he'd ever felt from any other dust crystal of comparable size, even in the raw unprocessed form. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and as it crossed his vision, Qrow found himself drawn to the swirled pattern within. They rippled and collapsed in on themselves within its depths.

Shaking his head of the distraction, Qrow refocused his eyes on Tabris.

"What the hell happened here? These people have been missing for a week at most, but here they are. Looks like they've been decaying for decades." Qrow demanded fiercely as he circled the chamber, mindful of the bones that interrupted his path. Tabris circled as well, seemingly determined to keep the crystal podium in sight at all times. 

For a moment, Tabris broke eye contact to look around morosely at the scene, towards the skeletons that littered the corners of the cavern.

"I must say this is all rather unfortunate. This place has been undisturbed for centuries, and these poor unfortunate souls just stumbled upon it without regard. Had they come individually, they'd likely all still be alive. Though, I doubt a state of perpetual insanity would've suited any of them." The man sighed, as if deeply depressed by the fact. "Of course, you would know about unfortunate circumstances, wouldn't you, Angel of Misfortune?"

The Huntsman's grip on his sword tightened to the point of pain. He focused on that familiar sensation to keep him grounded, focused. Anger spiked through his guts like a javelin at how easily this man dismissed these people. More to the point, how in the hell did he know Qrow's semblance? 

His red eyes flickered to the podium in the middle of the room for the briefest second. This... _thing_ , this crystal - this corrupted dust - must have been some kind of sick and twisted experiment. A trap made to ensnare the unwary and turn them into mindless frenzied monsters who'd gladly turn on and murder each other. It's the only explanation for the signs of battle damage that decorated the cavern walls like paint. Qrow wondered in the back of his mind how long could he remain before that became his fate too. Would exposure to this strange glimmering handful of dust cause him to descend into insanity the same way these poor saps apparently did when he went back to Atlas?

The thought was a horrific one, but knowing his luck, simply being exposed to this dust already turned him into a ticking time bomb.

A deep rumbling chuckle echoed through the cavern and Tabris had a smiling impression on his face. "While I thoroughly enjoy your catastrophic scenario, I can assure you that its not the case. This... 'dust' you call it didn't cause these people to descend into madness. The _allure_ of it did."

"What are you talking about?" Qrow barked out, brow knitted together in a frown.

Tabris raised a finger to his lip, clearly pondering his next choice of words. "How would you phrase it? Ah, yes. 'Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely'."

Qrow was more than a little perturbed that this man seemingly had the ability to read his mind. Perhaps that was his semblance? Mental manipulation? Did Tabris make Qrow somehow subtly influence his thoughts in that direction. After all, the man had kept his face completely unresolved.

"Again, you have some truly fascinating theories, but no. I promise that this is nothing quite as nefarious as that."

"Cheap words from a man using his semblance to shield his face from a trained Huntsman." Qrow shot back.

That earned a derisive chuckle and Tabris shook his head. "You're so bold to claim that you could possibly be a threat to me? I admire your attitude. You will suit nicely, I think."

The taunt irritated Qrow, but he couldn't deny a sense of foreboding in those words. In fact, he could believe without a doubt that if it did come to blows, Tabris could easily crush his existence. The question remains, just what in the hell was he? And how was he linked to this... place? And just what the fuck did he mean by 'suite him nicely'?

"I wonder," Tabris' words cut through his thoughts like a knife, his gaze pinning Qrow to the spot. His expression, blurred though it was, seemed to be an appraising one; like he was observing a captivating art piece or a precious gemstone waiting to be cut. "Do you hear it call to you? Does its very presence make your blood sing? Make your soul ache like an old wound?"

With the rapid fire questions, Qrow kept his scowling gaze on the man. A scowl that completely evaporated into a look of fearful realization. It felt like invisible chains wrapped around his limbs, locking him in place. He couldn't so much as move a muscle as that realization gave birth to a comprehension which smashed into his skull with the force of a sledge hammer.

In that instant, Qrow knew exactly who this man was. What he _truly_ was. A reality cemented when the mortal form gave way to the twelve foot tall purple humanoid with draconic horns curling over his skull like a crown.

Fear - pure, cold, unadulterated fear - robbed him of action. And something primal deep within his soul called for his submission to this being.

Qrow had once described Salem and her creations as gear, but now he saw - no, now he truly _understood_ \- that her creations were little more than childrens' toys in a sandbox against the sheer magnitude of this presence.

"Y-you... your--"

"Smart child," The God smiled proudly down at him. "Are you frightened, little bird? There's no need for that here. No need to fear this shrine either. Not you, of all creatures." 

The God paused a fraction as if to correct himself. "Unless of course, you choose to take this into yourself. Power does not come without price, and pain is indeed the opening bid, but simply being in its presence will cause you no harm."

Qrow didn't respond, his mind racing a thousand miles an hour and doing his best to think of ways to appease this being for--

"If you think you've caused me offense with your accusations, allow me to relieve your concerns. You have not. In fact, I found your stubbornness quite endearing."

"Forgive me for saying, but the last time a human defied you, you made her immortal and wiped out the first generation of our race. Can you blame me for expecting a similar reaction?" Qrow spoke with a confidence he sure as hell _didn't_ feel. He considered the weight of Harbinger. The sword was no use against the power that stood before him, but now he found himself clinging to it like a security blanket.

"Your perceived slight is nothing compared to disrupting the machine of life and death, nor deceiving your creators. You simply wanted the truth, which I have provided. I find no reason to take offense." The God declared, highly amused. "In fact, killing you would be quite contrary to why I chose to investigate this little toy of mine in the first place. In fact, I would even go so far as to offer that you are free to speak your mind. Tell me the truth, child. Do you feel _drawn_ to this artifact?"

Qrow watched the purple hand gesture to the dust crystal. He hesitated before giving his answer, though he had a suspicion this God knew what his answer was. "I... I _do_. I want to take it."

He was deeply disturbed by how much he wanted to claim this tiny fragment for himself. The God seemed highly amused by this as well.

"Ah, yes. I suspected as much. Tell me, would you like to know why?"

The Huntsman was rapidly running out of patience for these games. Still, he nodded once.

"Because, this is a piece of me." The God of Darkness explained in a cool, soothing tone. "Just a small piece, a fragment cast adrift from the whole. After all, my brother left behind his relics. Its only fair that I should leave one of my own."

Qrow shook his head fiercely, not comprehending what he was being told whatsoever. "Why would I want to piece of you?"

"Why, my boy, because of your blood." The God answered, "The blood of a Grimm."


	3. Frozen Secrets Pt 3 - Grimmborne

What a piteous expression. 

The God of Darkness felt a distant sort of sympathy towards the mortal standing by his alter. If only because the man, seemingly unknowingly, carried a piece of his own precious pets. Unlike his brother, the God of Darkness kept a halfhearted sentry on Remnant for some time, and there were precious few mortals foolish enough to willingly embrace the powers of pure destruction. 

For their own physical and spiritual health, they required a complex yet delicate mix of both destructive and creative impulses to maintain functional stability. To so willingly tilt that delicate balance in one direction would only lead to calamity. Watching the ignorant singularly fail to embrace the forces of destruction and inevitably become consumed was a favorite pastime.

The only creature to successfully force any form of stable equilibrium between the diametrically opposed Humanity and Grimm was that arrogant whelp, Salem. If only because she was purposefully removed from the mechanisms of life and death by the brother Gods' own decree, and the energies within his former Pool of Destruction literally could not destroy such a being.

The divine creature could read Salem's indelible mark in the young Huntsman's blood like a sour note in an otherwise perfect symphony. 

The Dark God tutted pitifully. In the next second, he resumed the human guise of Tabris Nox.  This time, he'd allowed his features to be unveiled. He was a man with a pale complexion, rosewood hair and eyes as though crafted from obsidian chips. "That man. It seems his deceptions - no, I correct myself - His _omissions_ run more deeply than any of his followers realize. Ozma didn't once think to inform you of your blood; the uniqueness of it? Have you never wondered _why_ you could unravel your form at so fundamental a level to assume another? A thing that, by all human counts, shouldn't be possible?"

"What... are you talking about? It-it was a gift, magic he gave us." The Huntsman was deeply disturbed, eyes shrinking to pinpricks and perspiration dotting his brow despite the radiant cold. His world appeared to be unraveling brick by brick, hard truths that shattered his already tenuous grip on what was fact and fiction.

"I think you and I both understand the frailty of that lie. No human-born magic could so completely alter a physical form and reshape it into something new, then allow you to flint between the two as easily as one sheds clothing." Tabris' lips shrunk to a thin line. "I see there will be difficult conversations to be had between yourself and Ozma, when you return to Atlas. Now more than ever if my current understanding of your situation is correct."

Tabris _was_ correct, but he had found in many of his past interactions with mortals that they were often irked by such reminders of his near-omniscience. "Perhaps you'll wish to ask Ozma - or is it Ozpin - why he didn't inform you that your blood bore the marks of Salem's corruption?"

The poor human looked pale and sick to his stomach, his hand pressed to his face as if physically holding back the urge to vomit.

"Please understand that its not my intention to cause you distress. I only mean to explain why this artifact calls to you so, and why you can more readily stand its presence then these others." Tabris gestured around them, to the forgotten bones. "Though I personally believe it is the height of irresponsibility on Ozpin's part to deprive one of his supposedly 'most trusted' of such vital personal information about themselves."

"I-I thought--" The human shook his head, backing away slowly as if he could physically distance himself from the truth by doing so. He stumbled over one of the bone corpses and fell backward, his back hitting the cold ice wall.

With a wave of the hand, Tabris removed the bones from the chamber. He relocated them to those dirt mounds mortals loved so much, were they called? Cemeteries.

"This is too much..." 

"Be that as it may, it does not change--"

The Huntsman cut him off, "Salem and Oz - their kids -- they died. I saw it! Jinn's vision--"

Tabris folded his hands behind his back, head politely tilted to one side. "Strange. I thought you were possessed of many admirable traits, I never once counted naivety among them. Yes, while the children of Ozma and Salem were slain - casualties of the battle that sparked their enmity - did you think that Salem _only_ ever had children with Ozma?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The Huntsman's voice was quiet, like a whisper on the wind.

"Do you not? You saw it in Jinn's own vision. Salem's ambition once upon a time was to recreate her own breed of humanity. One that could wield magic like the old humankind once could. Though her second attempt at doing so was decidedly not as consensual as the first."

Tabris shook his head dismissively when the Huntsman did not respond. He could hear the man's breathing quicken as he tried desperately to absorb the dreadful information he was being given. "Salem would proudly go on to call these new humans the 'Grimmborne'. And when they singularly failed to meet her exacting standards they were discarded like a broken toy."

The God mused grimly. "Yet another example of how the years have done little to temper her callous arrogance. Her disregard for the sanctity of life is abundantly clear. The woman made to slaughter them all, but some of those Grimm-tainted humans escaped her purge. They, in turn, sided with their pure human brethren. They spread and did as humans typically do; couple, procreate, die. But a lingering manifestation of that ancient taint remained."

As the Huntsman looked up, Tabris gestured to his eyes with two fingers.

"Why are you telling me this?" Qrow demanded in a weary voice.

"I am explaining to you why you feel a compulsion towards this Alter. The artifact is of me, the Grimm are of me, and you are of the Grimm. It is a resonance between you and it." Tabris allowed patiently.

Qrow hoisted himself back to his feet, using the cavern wall to steady himself and jutted his chin towards the pedestal. "And what is that?"

"A sample of my power, an offering and a test for any willing to attempt seizing it for themselves." Tabris explained.

"As if things would ever be that simple. There's got to be a catch…” the mortal concluded. His voice was distant, even more muffled by the hand he’d pressed over his face.

Tabris laughed uproariously, his voice echoing throughout the chamber. “There is always a catch! Life is a catch! I suggest you catch it while you can. But yes, there is a price for this power I offer.”

“And what do you want?” The Huntsman's grim-red eyes glared at him in defiance.

Tabris merely smiled in turn. “Entertainment. The joy of watching a stone fall in water and seeing its ripples stretch on for eternity. Or simple pleasure. You can never know with these things.”

A silence stretched between the two while the Huntsman tried to re-orientate himself.

“Why me?” His voice was barely a whisper, clearly the poor human was struggling with the bizarre situation.

Yet another mocking laugh filled the cavern, "My, and here I was believing I'd never met a human more conceited than Salem. You foolish boy, there's no rhyme or reason for the choice. No reason whatsoever. it could’ve been one of these people - had their own avarice not turned them against one another.”

“Cheap words from a god." Qrow muttered defiantly and Tabris was more amused than insulted.

"Then this _is_ a trap…” Qrow deduced, thrusting a boneless hand toward the pedestal, “You use it to lure people in, compel them into making a pact for this… _thing_.”

"Trap. Treasure. Blessing. Curse. Mere words open to a myriad of interpretation." Tabris dismissed. “I compel nothing. I offer the truth. I tell them what I can offer them in exchange for devotion to me, should they pass the trial this artifact presents.”

“And then what? You force them into agreeing, at which point you have your way with them? Use them until they’ve been run ragged?” The Huntsman barked and Tabris couldn’t help the rise in his amusement. The mortal had quite warmed to his indignation and in the process completely forgotten to whom he was speaking.

“You assume much, Qrow Branwen.” Tabris said, a light warning edge in his tone shut the Huntsman down completely, reminding the young warrior of his place. “You assume that these pacts of mine are forced. I can assure you they are not. In fact, I can tell you that a great deal of people have rejected my offers, and I have allowed them to do so. I find free will to be the highest virtue of your race, and imposing my will upon you?”

He laughed derisively before he continued. “If I wanted a creature that would obey my every whim and desire, I can quite easily make a race to do so with a thought. But a being who chooses to serve me? Well, free will invites independent thinking, and the ways in which mortals concoct methods to demonstrate their devotion to be most entertaining. Some mortals choose to fight and win great battles in my names, others choose to demonstrate their worship in more... subtle or intimate ways."

"And now what? You want me to take it?" Qrow demanded, glaring at the crystak.

Tabris cocked his head to one side, curiously. "Would that not be the most prudent decision? Its a powerful, godly creation. You can't just allow it to remain unattended."

"And what guarantee do I have that just _taking_ the crystal won't bind me into making one of these generous 'pacts' of yours?"

"Because a God's blessing is not bestowed upon the unwilling. You _will_ never be in danger from me. " Tabris answered solemnly, "You can safely carry this artifact around for the rest of your life, and live just was you did before discovering this place. You could cast it into the deepest ocean and let it sit for the rest of eternity. Or until Ozpin fulfills his role and summons my brother and I back to your world."

The god took a step closer to the Huntsman. "Or you can take it, survive its trial and I will grant you power beyond dreams. Enough, I dare say, to remake this world in your image. Or if your appetites are less ambitious than that, I can merely grant a simple wish instead. Tell me, would you like to quell your semblance?"

He allowed himself a smirk when he saw the mortal's eyes widen at the mention of such a thing. Perhaps it was a low tactic, but as the god stated, he would offer only truth. And mending a broken semblance was less than child's play to his might. "Do I have your interest now?"

Qrow bit his lip, brows knitted together in a scowl as his red gaze shifted from god to artifact and back.

“I do not expect you to give me your answer now. Take some time to reflect on these matters, on the choice that’s set before you.” Tabris urged him, not unkindly. “After all, you yourself have witnessed the consequences of decisions made in haste. A compelling case could be made that the entire world’s current state is a result of that very folly. Think through my offer carefully, measure all of its value and consequences, then make your decision. I would not see a repeat of the foolishness between my dear elder brother and his own agent. I wish you to make this choice in full knowledge of its consequences, and with no regrets.”

At an unseen command, the crystal and its podium exploded outwards into a strange blackish ichor then froze in midair, before it collapsed and condensed in on itself into a perfect sphere no bigger than a cherry tomato. It hovered at chest height, and within was the same swirling and blooming pattern of red and black inner light.

“Take it with you.” Tabris’ instructed, “You may take as long as you wish to consider this decision. I am nothing if not infinitely patient, and I can await your answer. Now take it, and away with you. I’m sure that the good General and your colleagues will be fretting after you.”

“And if I choose not to?” Qrow shot back, glaring at the orb. “What if I choose just to walk away right now, throw down some raw dust and collapse the cavern, leaving it buried forever?”

“No secrets remain buried forever. In time, even the most carefully hidden of objects can be unearthed through determination or by sheer accident.” Tabris gestured around them, to the bodies once lay. “Case and point.”

When the Huntsman didn’t move, Tabris cocked a curious eyebrow and allowed a smirk to play on his lips. “Unless, of course, you want it to remain here? What would happen, I wonder, if your enemies found this place? Perhaps could you imagine the nightmare of a maniac such as Tyrian Callows or Cinder Fall possessing a piece of my power? Can you imagine that power falling in the hands of anyone so fanatically devoted to that woman?”

All hesitation evaporated in the face of such scenarios and Tabris was pleased to see Qrow snatch the orb in his fist. 

The Huntsman looked down at the shiny object rolling about his palm like a marble. The sphere was surprisingly warm to the touch. He wouldn’t have thought so, he expected the metal to be as cold as the tundra - but given the paradoxical nature of the being who created it? Well, all things were possible.

Qrow couldn’t deny the hunger in him either but he mustered his resolve and slipped the sphere into his pocket, physically removing the temptation from his sight. When the god gave a parting word of warning, the Huntsman turned abruptly and made his way towards the opening that brought him down to this pit. With a mere thought, he transformed himself into an avian creature and took flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qrow's got the Dark God's artifact in his pocket. Oooo, Wonder what'll happen next. :)


	4. Frozen Secrets Pt 4 - A Choice with No Regrets

This had to be some kind of nightmare. How could things have spiralled out of control so quickly?

Less than an hour ago, they had Tyrian in their clutches. Bound and chained up in the Manta transport, and on his way to a deep dark cell where he could rot for the rest of eternity. Now… Tyrian was on the loose, Robyn was unconscious and Clover was dead. Impaled from behind by Tyrian, using Qrow’s own sword to frame the Huntsman for the deed.

Qrow remained kneeling by Clover’s body long after the corpse had grown cold and his tears dried up. In his palm was the green and silver pin Clover had on his lapel, shaped after his namesake and tainted with red blood. He heard the distant sound of the gunship overhead and the crunching of snow beneath treads. When two pairs of armoured hands hoisted him roughly to his feet and clap cuffs around his wrists, Qrow made no effort to resist. 

But, in his heart, a murderous hatred festered. Towards Tyrian Callows for his murder of Clover, at James Ironwood for his blasted orders that caused the situation in the first place. And himself. How foolish and moronic he was. He should’ve taken the opportunity to kill Tyrian while the psychopath was distracted with Clover - should’ve run Harbinger through the scorpion bastard’s sternum the same way he did to Clover.

"Beware of regret," The Atlas Specialist said, almost as if she read his mind. "Take care not to cling to it, lest it poisons the soul and turn joy to ash in the mouth."

Qrow looked up to find that only one officer remained in the cabin with them. The others had remained in the cockpit section, blocked from view by the transparent armour glass that was also possessed of sound-dampening qualities. It was a female officer that held the bloodied Harbinger’s pommel, tip pointed at the deck and rolling the weapon idly while she inspected it.

“That was a calamity and a half, was it not. I dearly wish I could say I was surprised but the good General has always been one to... ‘jump the gun’, as you all say it. Decisions made in haste have  _ always  _ vexed me beyond reason.”

“ _ You _ .” Qrow’s eyes widened in recognising. The Rosewood hair, longer and tied back in a long wavy tail, the obsidian eyes and that damned self-assured smile. But this was not the male he encountered months ago, wearing a smart-casual suit. This was a female officer wearing the standard uniform of an Atlas Specialist.

_ How is that even --? _

The disguised God interrupted him before he could even finish the thought. “Must I only be confined to one form? Bodies are such limiting things, and I thought you understood full and well with whom you were conversing?”

In a flash of white hot anger, the Huntsman lounged from his seat, seized the colour of the female Tabris’ uniform to shove her hard against the transport’s wall. The impact created a resounding thud that echoed loudly in the confined space. 

“You knew this would happen!” Qrow growled out through tightly gritted teeth. 

It was like a dam had shattered inside him; all the rage, pain and sorrow of the night poured out like a tidal wave. And after what happened tonight, the last thing Qrow wanted to do was entertain an incarnation of pure chaos and destruction.

Again, the God didn’t seem affronted by this attack on its human avatar.

“I suspected.” The female Tabris shrugged indifferently.

“You  _ suspected _ ?!” Robyn Hill shot to her feet, livid. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?! We could’ve avoided all--”

Tabris turned her obsidian eye on Robyn who found herself quite devoid of a voice. The Huntress tried to speak more insistently before her face morphed into one of horror and her fingers came up to clutch her throat.

“You’ve no right to a comment, my dear, since it was your hasty decision that directly caused Clover’s death. So kindly sit yourself back down and do not dare obfuscate your role in this.” Tabris glared at her and Robyn clearly wished to rebel against the instruction, but reluctantly, jerkily obeyed as if her body was attempting to resist the pull of an invisible puppeteer.

"Why are you here?!" Qrow growled, his grip on her collar tightening.

"To remind you that my offer is still open. If you wish to form a pact, then you need only say the word." Tabris said.

"What happened to 'not forcing me into this'?" The Huntsman demanded hotly.

Tabris appeared genuinely offended by the words, " _ I _ have forced nothing. The events of this night would have occurred with or without my presence in this story. The greed of human hearts would've set this drama into motion regardless."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I doubt there's anything I could say to adequately prove my position one way or another." Tabris answered coolly. 

“Look at that abomination she’s created.” Tabris jutted her chin towards the window by her shoulder.

Qrow released his grip on Tabris' collar and moved to look out the window, Robyn joined him to get a better view and both were aghast at what they saw. A huge horde of Grimm, larger than any either had ever seen in their lives. And they were flocking around a giant whale-like monstrosity that impossibly floated in the sky towards Altas. A massive creature that made the Leviathan at Argus or the Wyvern at Beacon Tower look like cannon fodder.

“My gods...” Robyn whispered, eyes wide with despair. So completely lost in fact that she failed to notice her voice had returned.

“Would you believe me if I said I originally made the Grimm to be my pets?” Tabris mused with a hint of sorrow. “Now look at what  _ she’s  _ done with them. My beautiful creations turned to monstrous purpose. Shattered their minds, ensnared their wills, stunted their evolution.”

Qrow frowned, but when he looked towards the god’s guise he was astonished to find the glistening unshed tears on that human face. “It grieves me beyond my capacity for description.”

“I didn’t know a god could cry…” Qrow admitted.

“Oh, I  _ weep _ .” Tabris answered breathlessly, “I weep for what could’ve been, and what was. My pets, aggressive though they were, were intelligent, fierce and resourceful. They could’ve become their own race in turn, and that arrogant whelpling took that away from them. She brought ruin to your precursors, perverted my precious pets and shattered their chance to become their own civilisation... and, now she threatens to lay low another.”

After a moment's consideration, while Robyn was fully processing the horror of what appeared to be the fate of Altas and Mantle as kingdom, Qrow came to a reluctant decision. With some awkward maneuvering, Qrow managed to reach into his right pocket and fish out the black and red orb he’d retrieved under the tundra of Solitis all those months ago. It was warm to the touch, but he could feel the thrum of promised power within, pulsing like a heartbeat. He'd kept this thing in his pocket for months, never quite willing to part with it. He couldn't tell if it was a compulsion, or if some part of him reasoned deep down that he would likely need to take advantage of the god's offer one day.

"You said this offer is still on the table, right?" Qrow asked distantly, observing the rippling swirling patterns within.

“Blessings are not forced upon the unwilling,” Her voice was soft, tender even with her warning. "Be certain that this is what you want, mind and soul, for there is no going back once the bargain has been struck." 

"What bargain?! What blessing!?" Robyn barked furiously, thrusting her bound hands towards the monstrosity closing on on the floating city. "Can you get us out of this mess?! Can you stop that from burning the Kingdom to the ground?!"

"Be silent, girl." Tabris growled, her obsidian eyes pinning Robyn in place. "You do not hold the key to the Reservoir, you have no power to strike bargains here." 

Qrow remained silent, hefting the relic in his hand. It rolled around his palm like a marble. “You said you’d give me power beyond imagining, right? Would that include the power to prevent this shitstorm of a night happening?”

“Qrow, you cannot be serious-!” Robyn bellowed the protest.

“I can return you to the point where you first encountered the Reservoir, I believe that should be sufficient time for you to avoid this fate.” Tabris answered curtly. “No matter what you ask or what I give, the price shall still be the same.”

The Huntsman looked down at the orb. He still didn’t know the price he had to pay for this glorified reset button, or the beefed up power it would bring if Tabris proved trustworthy.

“And, exactly what  _ is  _ that price?”

Tabris tilted her head politely to the side. “You belong to me, completely. As  _ completely _ as you once belonged to Ozpin. Mind, body and soul. From this day until your last day.”

“Okay, hang on a second - You want him to make some kind of Faustian deal with you?! Just who in the hell are you, you whackjob?"

“Some may call me that, also ‘Tabris Nox’, The Hungering Void, Chaos incarnate, or more appropriately, the God of Darkness. But for now, Tabris will suffice.” Tabris replied, then shrugged vaguely. "Not that you'll need to know that little fact for very long, my business is almost concluded."

“You’re insane.” Robyn glowered at her, though a tremor of fear crossed her expression. Qrow paid them no heed. His unreadable red eyes still looking at the orb in his hand.

A steep price perhaps, but in the end... was there really a choice? The shimmering orb of black and red energy sat in his right palm, in the left was Clover’s bloodied pin. His dark brow furrowed and his resolve hardened. After all, what was the rest of his life against the lives of every man, woman and child in the Kingdom? Against the safety of his nieces? Against the chance to write a monstrous wrong and prevent all of this disaster from happening to begin with?

His fingers curled around the sphere and squeezed tightly.

“Qrow,  **_Don’t_ ** !” Robyn lunged to stop him, but it was too late.

Qrow could feel the thing start to lose form and crack like an egg. The second the surface ruptured, a torrent of energies tore through his fingers, consuming the ship, the city, and Salem’s Grimm Army in the blackest void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I may have slightly taken some cues from Madoka Magica when writing this story. The God of Dark/Tabris is sort of like an Incubator, while Qrow 'accepting' the deal is reminiscent of Homura's rewrite of the universe at the end of Rebellion. Hope you all enjoy what comes next! :D


	5. Frozen Secrets Pt 5 - Flash Freeze

Yang and Weiss had definitely drawn the short straw in patrol duties today, that much was blatantly clear. Admittedly, all of them were still a bit on cloud nine thanks to their new Huntress Licences the General issued the other day, and while Ruby and Blake were in Atlas, attending to some Grimm problem in Mantle while Yang and Weiss were freezing their asses off. Almost literally it seemed.

"GET INSIDE! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!" 

Orders to muster screamed across all radio channels the second lookouts reported the ballistic storm brewing in the distance. And it was closing the gap rapidly. There was hardly time to lock down the lighter goods before the storm hit the abandoned Schnee Mine that now supplied the vital resources for the Amity project. 

Yang Xiao Long shielded her eyes with her robotic arm, feeling an ache in her stump. It throbbed painfully in conjunction with the plummeting temperature. "What the hell is up with this weather!?"

"A Flash Freeze!" Weiss shouted to be heard over the howling winds, "Get inside now! Or we'll freeze to death!"

The two huntresses struggled against the buffeting winds that threatened to sweep them off their feet with each stumbling step. A threat carried out when Yang's boot tread met with an uneven patch of ground, cost her her balance and set the Huntress keeling over. Rolling and tumbling like a rag-doll, Yang couldn't even get a foothold or a grip on anything to stabilise her, until the black glowing rune bloomed under her body pinning her in place with its own personal gravity well. When the blonde looked up, she'd rolled about four metres from her friend and teammate. 

Weiss had summoned an identical glyph under her own feet, anchoring her to the ground while she pressed towards her friend to assist. "I've got you! Get up!" Her voice was a whisper against the unholy cacophony that assaulted their ears. 

"Into cover! Move! Move! Move!" Harriet Bree bellowed the order they could barely hear in their headsets, she was inside the mine's entrance, directing the military personnel and assignees inside with harsh chops of the hand.

Whichever ones were snatched by the flash freeze's winds, whichever ones Weiss could see, were similarly glued to the snowy earth by another black glyph that guided them towards the mine.

They were just ten metres from the mine's mouth and the shelter within. As quickly as they could despite the turbulent weather, the huntresses managed to make it into shelter. Atlas Huntsmen were covering the entrance with their various rifles, while more still were attempting to organise those who made it inside and perform headcounts.

"Everyone! Move further inside and clear this path." Clover Ebi's voice carried and echoed off the walls, which drowned out the distant howling of the storm while more people rushed inside. "We have heating units, blankets and rations being distributed within. This should only last for an hour, two at most, so we have plenty of provisions. Team leaders, I want reports of any missing personnel or injuries. And decide a watch rotation for the next hour. We can't let our guard down, and lets make sure we haven't traded one set of dangers for another."

Yang brushed off the white that caught in her outfit and ruffled her hair, which may as well have been dyed white for all the snow that caught in her locks.

"I guess living in Solitis has its own set of dangers, huh?" She mused rhetorically, rubbing her bicep just above her metal limb in a vain attempt to soothe the growing throb.

They'd followed the military officers further inside, all of them were huddled around chest-high pylons with glowing red bars running the length of each side. The heating units. Their internal mechanisms slow-burning fire dust to produce precious warmth. Though against this cold, calling the effort an uphill battle would've been generous.

"Flash Freezes stir up almost completely at random in the uninhabited tundra, even on the best of days most expeditions would have little to no warning." Weiss explained as they found a relatively lonely spot where one of the heating units hadn't been taken. "What happened just now, all things considered, is far more warning than most _ever_ get." 

"Yikes." Yang grimaced, "And what about in Mantle, in Atlas itself?"

"Mantle has its heating grid, as you saw, that typically makes it too hot for those sorts of freak weather events to occur with any where near the kind of frequency as out here." Weiss answered, taking on a scholarly tone. "And Atlas has its own synthetically generated climate system that's constantly monitored, as well as hermetic shielding should push come to shove."

"Shielding?" Yang propped a yellow eyebrow in intrigue, "So, say if a Grimm attacks, it could--"

Weiss waved a dismissive hand to cut her off, "Oh, nowhere near _that_ powerful. It's more like the ozone layer above atmosphere around Remnant. It blocks out the most harmful effects of whatever storms reach the perimeter, protecting the citizenry."

"Huh," Yang mused, hands on her hips. "Impressive! I knew Atlas was all the cutting edge stuff, but I never knew how suped up all of it really was." 

Weiss nodded slowly, conceding. "Yes, it _does_ have that in its favour, but the continent of Solitis presented more elemental dangers than most other kingdoms." 

"As the saying, living here ain't for bitches." Harriet entered the conversation. In her grip was a pair of long white and blue heat packs. She thrust one out to Yang who frowned, and the speedster cut her off before she could question the gesture.

"Wrap it around your stump," Harriet told her, pushing the pack into Yang's grip. "Cold's hell on prosthesis. Bet you're glad its an Atlas Build, otherwise you'd be dangerously close to getting frostbite."

"Frostbite?" Yang questioned, she took the pack and awkwardly did as Harriet instructed, using the spare straps on her jacket to pin the pack in place. The throbbing pain began to dull, which was a relief.

"Your skin is basically exposed to the direct cold through the metal contacts." Clover Ebi explained as he approached the circle. They all noticed a subtle limp in his left leg. "Not a pleasant feeling, I can promise you."

"That's an understatement." Weiss answered.

The AceOp commander dusted off his clothes of snow and took a seat on the ground across from Yang, and there was an unmistakable hiss issuing from his throat. As though something in his leg caused him pain and he was glad to be off it.

"Are you okay?" Yang asked,

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just stiff." Clover nodded, 

"Sure." Harriet rolled her eyes and tossed him the second heat pack.

"Even Atlas builds have their shortcomings though. Brilliant as our scientists are, they've yet to make a template that'll last in a flash-freeze." Clover explained casually. He wrapped the heat pack around his left thigh, just above his knee and breathed out an almost unconscious sigh of relief.

"Then again, they've yet to invent a human or faunas capable of living through a Flash Freeze too, despite aura protection." Weiss offered. 

"Yes, this is true." Absently, Clover massaged his leg through the pack while looking up at the Huntresses - specifically Harriet. "Thankfully, all heads have been accounted for. Some minor scrapes and bruises, but nothing that'll interfere with our jobs once this freeze is over."

"Well, that's good news." Yang mused, she cast her eye over her shoulder to the cavern entrance. 

Harriet flicked her nose. "A'righty then, I'm gonna go with the scout teams, patrol the area and make sure no Grimm try to sneak up on us. Odds are they'll be hibernating, but better safe than sorry."

"Keep in touch." Clover called after her and Harriet just waved over her shoulder.

Yang's gaze momentarily flickered to Harriet as she left but eventually found their way back to the exit. "Hey, how far spread are these things typically?" 

"They can stretch on for kilometres. It... honestly depends on the season, and the location. Obviously some natural formations of mountain or ice will have an effect on air and wind flow." Weiss explained, once again speaking as those she swallowed a textbook. "Why?"

"I'm just... worried about Qrow. He said he was doing a job out in the Tundra, search and rescue." Yang supplied, worry etched on her face.

"Oh, Well - I'm sure he's fine." Weiss couldn't hide the hesitation in her tone, she'd realised all she could do was offer the empty platitude.

Before Yang could comment, Clover had interjected. "That's not important to the mission right now. So I suggest you put it from your mind and focus on the job at hand." 

"The hell it isn't important, he's my uncle." Yang countered passionately. "If he's out in the tundra, alone, and he's caught in a storm like this - you yourself said that even Aura can't protect--" 

Clover raised a hand to halt her words, "Listen. I understand that you're concerns. Sure, I'm worried myself, but you can't let that interfere with what's on hand right now. Besides, what do you think you can do right now? Go out there after him? You'll freeze to death before you made it a mile."

"But--"

"I get it. I promise I do, but think about it like this: A Huntsman of his calibre doesn't survive that long without having to live throw a freak weather cell every now and again, and I'm sure he has his own means to survive should worse come to worst." Clover said firmly, "And I believe in him, if not his will to survive."

Clover's words did nothing to soothe the anxiety in Yang, though she had to admit to his point. Qrow likely survived worse than some crazy cold storm, right?

"Fine." Yang grumbled, frowning.

Weiss put a hand on her shoulder. "Yang, he'll be okay. Maybe he isn't anywhere near the storm?"

Yang offered a hefty sigh. "Yeah, I hope so."

Little did the gathered Huntsmen know that out in the Tundra, the Huntsman known as Qrow Branwen was not an unwary victim of the storm but its grand architect. At the epicentre of the raging tempest, miles and miles away, a figure hovered in the air. A figure in black, made of black though it seemed, being molded and plied by an ancient chaotic power into a new shape. And upon its face was a pair of burning red eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My, my, my. Whatever have we here? A nice conversation between Weiss and Yang and Clover. Also Clover has knowledge of prosthesis... I wonder why that is... :3


	6. Frozen Secrets Pt 6 - Transformed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pact is made, and Qrow Branwen is transformed by the powers of Darkness, though time will only tell if the ascendant Huntsman will regret this after all...

Qrow expected pain. A great deal of it actually. The God of Darkness - or Tabris Nox, or whatever the hell it was calling itself - had spoken of surviving some sort of trial to gain whatever power this pact offered. But _nothing_ could've prepared him for the experience.

Robyn's screamed protests and attempts to stop Qrow only registered distantly in his mind, and she was far, far too late anyway. He felt a measure of anger against the woman as well, and ignoring her pleas was justified in his mind. Had Robyn not acted, like the dark god said, in haste - they could've ended Tyrian, and Clover would still be alive. Though only a microcosm of the true tragedy, it was her fault that the chain of events on the transport unfolded as they did.

No. This was something Qrow should have done the second he picked up the damned orb. He should have taken the power into himself. If he had - then maybe the hellish night they'd all endured and all the darkness that followed would've never happened. Lives ended tonight that didn't _need_ to end. Friendships and bonds of mateship and brotherhood were shattered.

Instead of being decisive, Qrow hesitated. He'd let the God Relic sit in his pocket, forgotten like a bad dream.

It occurred to him that perhaps this was Tabris' plan all along. A way to corner Qrow into making this decision. Despite his insistence - or was it _her_? The deity wasn't particularly picky with their forms - Qrow couldn't help but wonder if he'd been purposefully maneuvered into making this choice. But a part of him reasoned that perhaps the God _wasn't_ lying to him, that all of this would've happened regardless of their presence. 

Still, there was no going back now that the orb was broken. Cracked in his hand like an egg. He was ready to make the pact, ready to pay any price to stop James' madness and to stop Salem from laying Atlas - laying the _world_ low. And if that meant damning his soul? Then so be it.

When Qrow Branwen shattered the orb in his palm, a rush of uncontrollable energy consumed him in a raging maelstrom of black-and-red fire. In the first instant, his senses were completely overwhelmed by indescribable torture. Every cell screamed with agony as he was devoured by the darkness. His skin bubbled, burned away, renewed and burned again. Like bubbling wax constantly being reheated and molded again. His muscles were being flayed from his bones one fiber at a time, and his blood simultaneously boiled and froze in his veins. Layers upon layers of him were being stripped away, unraveled to be arranged into a new shape.

Hell, turning into a bird for the first time was less painful than this!

Hundreds of thousands of tiny hands pulled him apart by the most fundamental building blocks, tearing him apart and reforming into something new as this terrible power made him into its home.

The Huntsman could scarcely draw in a breath. Even _thinking_ seemed to cause indescribable anguish when not even his mind was immune to the machinations of this relic. The pain, hatred, loathing and despair he felt from the night's twisted events all washed away. Replaced by a flood of information, knowledge, ideas, images - an unchecked jumble that burned themselves into his brain.

The pain stretched on for eternity, and if he had a voice, Qrow might have screamed. He might have begged for it to stop. Begged to be killed, to die at the hands of this rogue divine tool and let his soul be obliterated in failure. Failure was something he was well used to. It would be a sweet release, and he would gladly embrace it like an old friend.

But against those thoughts, Qrow reminded himself of all the lives that were ruined or stolen by the night's actions, and from that came the hatred. The desire to enact retribution. The desire to avenge and prevent the world from crumbling around them. If he passed this test, earned this strength, he could change those fates from tragedy to prosperity. He could right the wrongs. All he had to do was just hold on - Endure a little while longer.

Then, abruptly, all sensation stopped. No pain. No anger. No sense. Just a complete  _ absence _ of everything. It was the most blissful relief. All sense of his physical self was gone, and he was reduced to a formless tired consciousness floating in a void.

"Magnificent..." Tabris' voice came from everywhere and nowhere, neither masculine or feminine. Qrow could not tell which avatar spoke, "You are precisely as splendid as I had hoped."

"Feels like I dove head first into a meat grinder..." Qrow was glad he could muster _that_ much of a response.

Somehow, he produced a sound akin to a groan. "I could've done without the Encyclopedia of Remnant being downloaded into my head..."

Tabris tutted like a disapproving parent explaining something to an unruly child, "Knowledge itself is a form of power, and I had warned you that pain was the opening bid for my blessing. But be assured that I am more than generous when it comes to my devotees, my new Sovereign."

The word sent a prang of fear through his heart, had he felt the organ at all. Such a sense of detachment should've made him panic, but he was oddly accepting of this formless state. 

Sovereign… as in a Sovereign-class _Grimm_?! Panic ripped through his mind, and with it came hundreds of scenarios, each as catastrophic as the last. Gods help him, what if Salem managed to snatch control away from him?! What if he’d be turned against his comrades? His friends and family?! And with a being blessed by the Gods in Salem’s thrall, just what would happen to Remnant?! Her conquest would be easier than ever--

“Do not worry,” Tabris soothed kindly, the god's consciousness brushed against his own and he felt a shudder run through his soul at the gentle caress. He had the impression of being embraced warmly, comfortingly. “You need not fear it, no more than you need fear me.”

The God’s presence withdrew, taking his anxieties with it but Qrow found himself uncomfortably aching for the Deity's attention again. Perhaps this was a result of the change in him? Of being bound to the god's service? Or was Qrow simply that _desperate_ for companionship, no matter how esoteric?

“It is true that which your kind call ‘Sovereign’ Grimm fall prey to the destructive impulses that compel Salem’s loathsome caricatures. Inevitably, they will submit to her will. But you, as a Grimmborne, carry a blend of a Human and Grimm essence within. And that Grimm aspect has been so diluted by humanity over the eons that it no longer bares resemblance to the Salem’s abominable hordes. It is neither Grimm nor human, but something more.” Tabris explained coolly, “In summary; the will you heed is, and forever  _ will  _ be, your own. And you need not fear a forced submission to her whims.”

He would’ve felt sick if he could sense his body. A feeling that he pushed aside when he once again reminded himself that this was a choice he made, and if he didn’t like the form this power took? Well, that was on him for not asking questions sooner. A silence stretched on, for eternity and for a fraction of a second. "So... _Where_ exactly am I?"

"Your physical body is back in the Tundra above the Reservoir where you first found my relic, I have returned you to the time when you first stumbled upon it. Some months in the past." Tabris explained patiently.

"Then... _why_ am I here?" Qrow questioned, "Shouldn't I be... ya know, somewhat attached to my body?"

A wry chuckle of amusement filled the void, "Indeed you should be, but I have often found it to be the case that my newest devotees have the unfortunate tendency of swiftly delving into madness from the agony of my blessings. It is far cleaner to allow their minds to awaken, to recover from the traumatic experience before allowing them to return to their vessels. To... decompress, if you will."

"If it's  _ that  _ damned painful for everyone who makes a pact with you, why not just take the pain _away_? You're a deity, aren't you?" Qrow shot back, and to his relief the God did not smite him for the insolence.

"I am, and I could, but the pain itself is a test. Those with will enough to survive intact also possess the will to use this power to achieve great things. Some of those things are terrible, some are magnificent beyond dreams. As for those who do not? Well, I have no time for weakness."

If he had a flesh-and-blood face, Qrow would have made a grimace. "My sister would _love_ to have a chat with you. Obsessed as she is by her pathetic idea of 'strength'."

"Perhaps, but I have on interest in her." Tabris dismissed casually, "She already possesses the powers of the Spring Maiden, yet displays no remarkable measure of conviction. The only notion she has is to preserve her own cowardly existence, and her penchant for snap decisions -- well, I've already told you numerous times how I  _ loathe  _ decisions made in haste."

That caught Qrow's attention. " _ Excuse you _ ?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" Tabris appeared genuinely shocked by his response. 'Appeared' being the operative words. “Forgive me. And forgive me again when I say your sister is remarkably weak-willed herself, there is no conceivable way that woman would ever gain my favour. No offense to you, my young friend.”

“Oh hell no, piss on her all you want. She’s a coward.” Qrow would’ve shrugged if he could. “Its just now I know she’s a fucking _moron_ on top of it.”

He mused in a low whisper, “I suppose I’ll have some interesting questions to ask a lot of people when I see them again…" Qrow spoke louder, "So, how long am I going to be stuck in this void? Not that I mind the company.”

“Until we are both satisfied that you will not - how do mortals phrase it? ‘Jump off the deep end’ when you return to yourself.” Tabris offered lightly, a note of amusement in his tone.

Qrow grunted, “I think I’ve got my head on pretty straight. I want to go back. There’s a lot of work to do between now and when Salem’s posse crashes the party, and I’d like to have a surprise waiting for them.”

Tabris chuckled, a jovial good natured chuckle. "Then, awaken… And gladly embrace the gifts I've given you."


	7. Frozen Secrets Pt 7 - An Enemy In Our Midst?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a brief moment of respite, General James Ironwood contemplates the nature of the current situation, and receives some unwelcome news twice over.

"Flash Freeze..." General James Ironwood noted morosely, taking the rare moment to escape the demands of governance and military duty to peer out his office window, and the magnificent view it afforded him of his Kingdom.

The only illumination within was the glow of his inbuilt desk terminal, the rest came from the living city sprawled outside. Atlas was called the 'Shining Jewel of Solitis' by most outside the kingdom, and the image captured in his window was perfect testament to that statement.

Right now, Ironwood was more keen on the storm he saw in the distance, a swirling plum of dark greys and dull blues. He'd lived half his life in Atlas, and he had a good gauge on the local weather patterns, even without consulting the Climate Bureau's live feeds. That being said, this was the second Flash Freeze in the spawn of a week - uncommon, but not entirely unusual the General supposed.

"Seems like we'll be in for a rough winter..." He exhaled a hefty sigh from the soles of his feet as the storm disbursed into nothing as quickly as it arose, like;y defused by whatever natural barriers it encountered.

"If only all of our problems could be snuffed out so easily..."

Ironwood swung back around in his chair, head bowed and resting his head on his folded hands. He felt like he aged decades in the months since Beacon collapsed and Ozpin disappeared. Had it only been months? No, more like a year at this point. Or perhaps it was more?

He couldn't tell anymore. That in itself was a sad state of affairs. The days all bled together, and every time Ironwood managed to put out one political fire, a dozen more cropped up. There was also an issue of personnel he hadn't quite gotten the chance to address yet. 

A week ago, one of the few closest friends he had left, Qrow Branwen, had vanished into the icy plumes that blanketed Atlas on a Huntsmen mission. His scroll signal had been dead for just under that period of time, and his last mission placed him north-east of the Kingdom's borders. His nieces and their friends were absolutely wrought with worry and concern, despite whatever hollow reassurances the General could afford. What burned him most was the fact Ironwood couldn't spare anything more than a token force to search for his friend. 

Hell, James would gladly abandon his duties to look for Qrow himself, but there was simply too much to do in Atlas. He had to facilitate the Amity Project, juggle the council election, handle a growing suspected White Fang dissident movement based out of Mantle’s abandoned sister-city of Shroud, and dissenters in Mantle in the form of Robyn Hill's supporters. 

As a human being, James desperately wanted to look for his friend and ally personally - One of the few close peers James had left. But as a General, Councilman and Administrator, he was duty bound to remain at his station. 

In his melancholy, he tried to console himself. For as long as James had known him, Qrow Branwen always had a frustrating habit to disappear from time to time. Dropping off the grid completely to gather Intel or other valuable assets was practically his favourite party trick, but he vanished on a Search-and-Rescue mission. That fact alone gave the General pause. There was no possible way a Huntsman of his calibre could be caught off-guard by whatever wild Grimm hugged the city's borders.

The factors at hand left a cocktail of scenarios that could be playing out right now, from innocent to horrific. Perhaps it was something as completely mundane as his scroll broke as collateral damage in a fight, and the priority of saving lives mattered more than technical failure. The more horrific veered dangerously close to darker, more pessimistic territory the General would rather not consider. That he was dead, that Salem's acolytes got a hold of him -- or that he  _ ran _ .

Ironwood shook his head hard, furious with himself for thinking that last. Qrow Branwen was many things, but a coward like his twin sister? No. Never in this lifetime.

His office door chimed and Ironwood beckoned his guests in without much ceremony, instead his attention was on a new notification that popped up on his terminal. A call from a Specialist investigating the reports in the ruins of Shroud. Over the past week, the ghost town to the northern ice shelves had become a veritable hive of activity. And, outside the reach of the local communications system, it took an average of twelve hours to receive any form of information from his officers since the Shroud relay tower had been destroyed by subterranean Grimm incursions which utterly obliterated any further attempts to colonise the area.

"Forgive me General, but she insisted upon seeing you as soon as possible." Specialist Winter Schnee, he faithful right hand, explained as she escorted the younger Huntress dressed in red and black combat gear.

"Miss Rose. One moment please, I need to handle this matter." The General offered by way of apology,

"Its alright." Ruby answered. Worry and concern had clearly taken its toll on the young woman if the bags under her eyes were any indication.

“G-General. This is Specialist Moss, come in.” A communication line opened in the office speakers, it was scrambled and laden with static to the point where Winter, Ironwood and Ruby could barely make out the words.

Ironwood pressed the broadcast button, speaking loudly and clearly as he did. “Specialist Moss, we’re getting severe interference. I am barely getting you. What’s your situation? Over.” 

“General. There are no insurgent elements in Shroud. There’s a colony of Grimm moved in. Led by a humanoid Grimm. Acknowledge?” Moss replied gravely.

“Come again, Specialist? Did you Humanoid Grimm??” Ironwood pressed urgently, heart thundering in his chest.

“Affirmative, sir. Code: Evernight Emissary.”

Colour drained from Ironwood and Winter’s faces as the words hung in the air, weighting them down with a meaning and gravitas that was entirely lost on young newly minted Huntress.

“A Sovereign…” Winter whispered in dreaded awe.

“Brothers help us all.” Ironwood whispered.

“A… 'Sovereign'?” Ruby piped up innocently, confused by their reactions. "Is that a code word or something?"

Ironwood swallowed hard as the Specialists' report continued through the static. "I'm sending recordings and holo-images of our surveillance. General, you'll want to take a look at this."

"Understood." Ironwood watched the data feed and gestured to Winter who quickly moved to the rising central hologram platform in the centre of the office. Her fingers were blurs as they danced across the keyboard produced there.  "Transmission received. Maintain your distance and observe for now. Do not engage unless directly threatened. Do you hear me, Specialist? We cannot afford to make any mistakes."

"And what are your orders if the Sovereign notices my men, sir?" Specialist Moss asked, even over the communication line only a fool could mistake the fear in their voice.

" _Run_." The General said simply. "Run, and pray you escape."

"... yes sir."

With that, the transmission abruptly cut out and Ironwood moved around his desk to review the report next to Winter, almost completely forgetting the presence of young Ruby Rose. "An Evernight Emissary scenario. I never thought I'd--"

"Uh... General. What is 'Evernight Emissary'?" Ruby asked cautiously, "And what's a Sovereign? Is it a type of Grimm?"

The two military officers shared a look with one another, a silent conversation playing out to which the young huntress was not party.

Winter turned to address her. "Yes. It is a Grimm. Perhaps the most dangerous kind of Grimm imaginable after Salem."

A brief unreadable expression flickered across Ruby's face before General Ironwood spoke up, his tone severe as he punched up a key piece of footage. Only thirty seconds long but enough to emphasis his point. "Perhaps this will show you why."

All three sets of eyes were on the holographic screen which displayed a man. Specifically his back. Upon which was a red icon that none of them recognised. He wore black pants, boots and a black and grey jacket, highlighted with bright crimson. His undershirt was white. What appeared to be black vambraces donned his forearms and he wore gloves, dark grey with a red palm and thumb. He wore a shock of white hair and his hands were hovering over the pit before him.

"He's... _making_ Grimm?" Ruby's hands rose to her lips, eyes wide in horror as she watched the figure raise his hands over the pool of black ichor, flanked by two griffons who seemed to be acting as guard dogs. The black pools, reminding Ruby so much of the font of destruction the God of Darkness dwelt, was alive with activity. Its surface rippled and bubbled as new Grimm emerged from its depths.

"A Grimm summoning pool, just outside our Kingdom..." Winter's composure returned, and her expression coaxed back into a stoic mask. "General, I recommend we deploy a tactical strike. We must--"

All conversation stopped when the man turned, and all of them caught a good look of his stubble covered face, and the look of dark triumph as he watched a new Grimm saunter away.

"Oh my gods..." Winter Schnee said. " _He's_ the Sovereign host...?"

"Uncle... Qrow?" Ruby's voice was tiny, disbelieving.

General Ironwood swallowed hard as he considered the image. The altered visage of the man who, despite their vast differences, he'd considered a good friend. His deep blue eyes closed as he drew in a heavy breath to harden his resolve. Affirming the next course of action to himself, the General looked to his lieutenant. "We have our target. Designation is Thirteenth Sovereign. Initial the Evernight Emissary Protocol. We need to handle this situation as swiftly as possible..."

"Y-Yes sir." Winter recovered her composure and snapped off a salute. 

"W-Wait, you can't possibly mean -- what's going on?! Why does Uncle Qrow look like that? Why are you calling him a Sovereign?!" Ruby Rose listed off her demands, her voice trembling with every word. 

General Ironwood glanced down at the girl, offering every ounce of sympathy he could muster with his next words. "Ruby. This is going to be difficult, but I promise I will try to end things as quickly and cleanly as possible... its the least we can do for him now."

"E-End things? You mean... you're going to _kill_ him?" Ruby repeated, unwilling to comprehend the meaning of his words. Her voice transformed into righteous anger, even as tears shimmered in the corner of her eyes. "How can you even consider that?! I thought Qrow was your friend!"

"He _was_ my friend. And its because of that friendship that I intend to give him the mercy of an honourable death, and not allow his corpse to be paraded around as Salem's puppet." 

"But," Ruby shook head head in disbelief, tears making tracks down her cheeks. "But he's still Qrow! He's still -- He's still my uncle! What's even happened to him!?"

"He's been infected with a parasite, which has turned him into a Sovereign-class Grimm." Winter Schnee explained when the General signaled her to do so. "As we understand them, they begin as an insidious microscopic form of Grimm that acts similarly to a virus. Infection could've come from anything to tainted food or even coming into direct skin contact with a source. Regardless, the parasite mutates the mind and infects the body. In 99.9% of cases, the human is completely overwhelmed and destroyed by the Grimm parasite, causing the corpse to become a breeding ground for new parasites, but that other 0.1% of the time, a human host instead becomes a sort of Hive Queen - or in this case, King."

"He was on a Search-and-Rescue mission, its quite possible he came into contact with a contaminant there." General Ironwood mused out loud. "It would explain quite easily why he hasn't answered any hails or attempts at contact... I imagined many horrible scenarios, but this? I never would've expected this... gods help us all."

"If its a virus - or some kind of infection, then we can cure it right?!" Ruby pleaded desperately between the two of them, "We can capture Qrow and try and get it _out_ of him. We can turn him human again! We can --"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Ironwood replied sorrowfully. 

"Ruby," Winter Schnee placed a hand on her shoulder, both as a silent reassurance and quiet demand for her to hold her tongue. "When a Sovereign Grimm has fully manifested, there's nothing left of the human they once were. Everything is gone, consumed by the entity possessing them. I'm sorry to say that what's left in this footage is--" The Specialist hesitated, as if trying to find the right phrase to use, to soften the blow. "-- is little more than a monster wearing your Uncle's appearance."

"No... no! We have to save him - we can't just let this happen!" Ruby shook her head furiously.

"There's no other way, I'm sorry," The General turned his attention to Winter, who's back straightened a little more. "Arrange for the AceOps to meet me outside of Shroud. I'll handle the matter personally, and--"

"Ya know, I don't think I've ever been so equally touched, yet _fucking_ insulted in the same breath..." A familiar rumbling voice cut across the room and everyone present searched frantically for the source, only to find it in the corner by the serving table set to the side of the room.

There Qrow stood, leaning against the wall as casually as ever while he silently sipped a mug of coffee. His appearance was completely alien to the last time any of the three had seen him, especially with that shock of white hair and glowing blood red eyes. Eyes that reminded Ruby all too uncomfortably of Salem when she emerged from the Pools of Annihilation.

His eyes flickered up from his drink, as if noticing them for the first time and waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, Don't mind me. Please continue. I wanna hear the plan out." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now ya'll know why Qrow was so horrified last chapter about being transformed into a Sovereign Grimm.


	8. Frozen Secrets Pt 8 - Opening Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reactions to Qrow's new appearance are decidedly... mixed...

"How -  _ How  _ did you get in here?" General Ironwood's tone waved only fractionally before he resumed his commanding demeanor.

It was a facade.

This was too much. They had only just learned the grim new reality - pun intended - that had become of Qrow Branwen. And now, proof of that horrific existence stood before them. It was nauseating, seeing this loathsome parody. An insult to the man's memory, made all the more blatant with the effortless imitations of Branwen's characteristic irreverence.

But how did he even _get in_ here? Winter and Ruby entered the office alone and the door hadn't opened since then. Even when making allowances for the superhuman empowerment that typically came with the manifestation of a Sovereign-class Grimm, the ability to appear out of thin air strained credulity. 

Before those questions could even be answered, a more pressing issue came to the forefront of Ironwood's thoughts. Such as the implications of this new twisted turn of events. 

If Salem had somehow managed to infiltrate his kingdom and twisted Qrow Branwen to her purposes, that meant his mind was now joined to the Grimm's collective consciousness. He was part of the hive mind that directed them all under her rule. Which implied that everything - absolutely  _ everything  _ \- they'd worked towards these last few weeks had been compromised.

Through the corrupted Huntsman, Salem now had a glimpse into every single defensive measure and strategy Qrow had been party to since he arrived in Atlas, as well as the global communications project. And perhaps more. Plans, ideas, schemes, strategies and every other secret Ozpin may have shared with the man privately were now at risk.

The notion crystallized in the General’s mind; the longer this new Sovereign lived, the more information leaked like a sieve back to Salem. James Ironwood would not permit that to happen, nor would he allow for the continued discretion of his friend's corpse.

Due Process practically leapt into his fist, hammer cocked and ready to make the kill shot. Quick and clean, right between the eyes. Brothers willing, the corpse would die quickly. Winter Schnee drew her own sword, levelling it at him while maneuvering quickly to cover the door. A black Schnee glyph formed under Qrow's feet, rooting him in place with a notable tug on his frame.

"Amazing how quickly alliances can change at the slightest provocation, huh Pipsqueak?" Qrow directed the question to his niece, thoroughly unimpressed by the threats made towards him by the two Military officers there. He merely continued to drink his coffee.

"W-wait!" Ruby tried to step between the three of them, hands raised in a defensive manner while her shimmering silver eyes shifted between them all in rapid succession.

"Ruby, step aside. He's not your Uncle anymore." Winter ordered coldly. 

The Specialist glowered at the man. While her opinion of him was generally dismal, she didn't hate the man enough to believe he deserved this fate.

Ruby shook her head desperately, clearly trying to right the monstrous wrong playing out in front of her. "No, we can't just -- can't we just  _ talk  _ about this?! This has got to be just some huge cosmic joke, right Qrow?"

Ironwood had to give the Grimm credit, he actually believed he saw a flicker of sorrow on his face. "Ain't a joke kiddo. It's exactly what they say; I am a Sovereign."

Qrow replaced the used coffee mug on the serving table and moved towards the central dais where the holographic projector was still showing Specialist Moss' report.

"Don't you dare take another step!" Winter barked out the order, her twin blades raised threatening towards the corrupted Huntsman.

Qrow glanced back at her for a long moment. And, as if demonstrating to a child, very slowly and pointedly took the last step towards the display. Despite the dreadful circumstance, Ruby couldn't completely suppress a single nervous giggle.

"I'm here to negotiate. So why don't you put the weapons down and listen to what I have to say? It's insulting." The Sovereign leaned against the central holographic display, peering at the content. "Well, I guess you've already had a sneak peek at my new project. Gods, do I hate spoilers..."

With a click of the button, Ironwood had turned the thing off, leaving them all cloaked in the City's back light. The lack of internal lighting made Qrow's glowing red eyes all the more disconcerting and monstrous, it was simply unnatural. 

"I'm not in the mood to negotiate with one of Salem's lap dogs." 

"And a right royal fuck you too, James." Qrow's face twisted into a scowl.

"Don't you dare insult the General." Winter snapped angrily, her grip on her swords tightened with an accompanying creak of leather.

"Okay! Okay. Can we just... put our weapons down,  _ please _ ?" Ruby pleaded to them both, the tears now ran tracks down her cheeks.

"I stand by Ruby's position. Put the gun down, why don't you?" The Qrow thing stood up straight with his arms crossed. "Think about this rationally for a second; if I was an enemy - more than that, if I was taking cheques from Salem, do you  _ honestly  _ think I'd have bothered to announce myself? Don't you think I'd be more likely to swoop in, snap necks then take off instead?"

General Ironwood kept Due Process trained on him for a long stretch of time, his confidence in his prior assessment wavering slightly. 

“More to the point, would I even bother to tell you that Tyrian Callows, Arthur Watts and Cinder Fall are in Atlas? And are responsible for the string of murders plaguing Mantle?” He continued, 

“What?” Winter balked, “What proof do you have of this?”

“Nothing substantial I can give right now. Honestly, even if I did, my current appearance makes believing me a bit of a hard pill to swallow, doesn’t it Ice Queen?” 

The Sovereign had a point, but wouldn't it also try to deceive them into believing he was an ally? That's how the Fourth Sovereign, formerly a soldier named Maria Hawke, nearly toppled Vacuo ten years after the Great War had ended...

"Why did you come here?" Ironwood demanded, his voice was colder than the arctic north.

The Sovereign shrugged. "For the same reason you’re so _damned_ eager to put a bullet in my head. Despite the fact that you  _ thoroughly  _ piss me off at times, I'd rather not see you throw your honour and humanity away and tail spin into madness. For the sake of our past friendship if nothing else..." 

“What _happened_ to you?” Ironwood finally lowered his weapon. “What happened out on your mission?”

Qrow's expression became a stoic mask. “Not to voice a cliche, but I made a pact with some folks in pretty high places. And that pact came with certain perks. Sure, I didn’t anticipate being turned into this, but in the grand scheme of things, the pros far outweigh the cons." 

Winter started forward with her accusation. “Then, you _did_ make contact with Salem? You betrayed us?!”

The Sovereign laughed uproariously, like it was the funniest joke in the world. Frankly, the sound was utterly unnerving. “Yeah, no. The person signing my pay cheques now is decidedly higher in the food chain than Salem. Although, like I said, I wasn't exactly expecting a divine makeover - but hey, win some ya loss some."

“But you've turned yourself into a monster…” Ironwood growled, almost under his breath.

Qrow met him in the eye, his expression was almost… sorrowful? “Without monsters, there can't really be any heroes, can there?” 

“I thought you were capable of many things, Qrow. But _this_?” Ironwood shook his head, a mix of disbelief and disgust on his features.

"You...  _ chose  _ this?" Ruby whispered, utterly shocked. Qrow spared her a look that Ironwood couldn't quite read. It could've been an apology for all he knew.

Qrow's red eyes returned to him, cold and unperturbed by razor edge in his tone. “Tell me James, how is me absorbing a Grimm’s essence to become stronger for the fight against Salem any different than you using machines to augment your own armies? Or yourself?”

“What I did was necessary!” Ironwood growled, his grip on Due Process tightening to the point of pain.

“And you think _that_ wasn’t?" Qrow gestured to the inactive holographic table. "You think that me making an army isn’t every bit as necessary as you fortifying yours? Salem is coming, James. Two of the four relics are here, two of the four maidens are here. When she comes, and when she takes Atlas, she'll have half the keys she needs to shatter this world. And I don't know about you, but I'm rather keen on the world staying as it is."

"Believe what you want about me, but I want Salem dead and gone as much as you do." Qrow circled the table until he was a foot away from Ironwood. The General had his weapon raised warily. The corrupted Huntsman lifted the weapon until it was pressed against the centre of his forehead. " But, if you think you can stop Salem on your own, then go right ahead and blow my brains out."

The action shocked everyone present. 

"Spoiler warning: You _can't_. The second Salem shows up, you'll crack under the weight of the damned world you're so insistent on carrying. So, you can either shoot me now, scar my niece for life, let Salem's little super secret boy band run roughshod all over your kingdom and lose against her in an open field." Qrow smirked, a dark vengeful look that was completely at home on his altered visage. " _Or_ we can work together. We can help each other fortify our armies, bring in Salem's little bastards alive - or preferable _dead -_ And when Salem comes; we'll burn her to the ground."

The General scowled, once more he drew back the hammer on his revolver still pressed into Qrow's head. "Choice is yours, James. Tick-Tock."


	9. Frozen Secrets Pt 9 - Insurance Policy

"So, what's the prognosis Doctor?" Clover Ebi asked politely as Doctor Pietro Polendina poured over the scan results on the monitor, syncing the data to his scroll for closer inspection.

Clover had taken the day off for medical leave and left Harriet in charge of the AceOps for the time being. In that vein, he was no longer dressed in his white, navy and red custom uniform, but a light grey shirt, forest green jacket and khaki pants with boots. He was leaning back on the examination table, left boot and sock stripped off and his left pant leg rolled up to just above his mid-thigh. From his mid-thigh down was a glimmering silver prosthetic, practically life-like in its detail, down to individual toe joints and the muscle definition. He had the leg stretched out in front of him on a foot stool for the scientist to examine.

Doctor Polendina mumbled absently to himself, musing over his scroll tablet and apparently unaware that Clover had asked him something.

"Doctor?" Clover interjected a bit more authority into his tone and the scientist jumped in his throne-chair, remembering himself.

"Oh! Oh yes, you'll be just fine. The servos in the ankle joint are misaligned slightly. Must have landed wrong in a skirmish, yes?" Doctor Polendina questioned, manoeuvring a little closer to remove the outer plating of Clover's ankle joint with one hand, and plucking a screwdriver out of his pocket with the other. "Oh goodness me. That’s a lucky save.”

Clover cocked an eyebrow at this but his concern was waved off. “Not to worry. It’s a simple enough fix, just a matter of realigning the connections. Give me a few minutes. But honestly. If you had landed any differently, you likely would’ve shattered the entire ankle assembly. Then you’d of been stuck with a fifteen-pound peg leg."

"What can I say? I'm just born lucky." Clover replied automatically, suppressing a wince as the doctor's tinkering triggered the nerve responses in his artificial leg. It felt no worse than treating a sprained ankle, but still extremely uncomfortable. Less than five minutes later and with a loud metallic quick that produced a tiny bark of pain from the Specialist, Doctor Polendina clapped the outer plating back on with an affirming pat. 

"That should do it. Stand up, have a walk around. Let me know how it feels." 

Clover did exactly he was instructed, practically bouncing to his feet as Doctor Polendina moved his chair out of the way. He made a few experimental laps around the room, satisfied now the limp that had plagued him for the last few days was gone. 

"Feels great. Very smooth." Clover declared with a nod, "Thank you, Doctor."

"I know you're still getting used to it, but you'll have the hang of it in time." Doctor Polendina reassured him sympathetically, wearing a warm fatherly smile. 

Clover returned to the examination table, folding down his pant leg and replacing his shoe and sock. "Its fine Doctor. Way I see it, it could've been a dozen times worse. All things being equal, I'm glad it was just one leg as opposed to my entire lower torso."

"Ah yes. Your semblance certainly had a role to play in that, I'm certain. Quite possibly saved your life entirely." Despite the jovial tone, Clover forced a smile. "Oh, and you'll be pleased to know that I didn't see any signs of frostbite on your connecting joint from the Flash Freezes. But just make sure that maintain your new prosthesis if you'll be out in the mines. And if you'll be spending more than twenty-four-hour rotations in the tundra, make sure to oil the joints twice as much, otherwise they'll seize, and that'll be no fun at all."

Clover Ebi offered a chuckle. "Of course, thanks again Doctor Polendina."

As he went for the door, the Specialist stopped and turned back around with a frown. “Doc, I have to ask; Do you know what’s caused-?”

A chime over his scroll cut off his questioned and Clover immediately snapped to attention when he spotted the caller ID. The General was messaging his direct line with orders to come in. Quickly, he pocketed his scroll. “Sorry, Duty calls. I’ll come back later for a talk if that’s okay?”

“No, no. Of course. My regards to the General.” Doctor Polendina’s voice followed Clover out the door when he turned abruptly on his heel and marched out of the lab with purposeful strides.

In short order, Clover had travelled from the military hospital ward into the Academy. He ascended the stairs outside the Headmaster's office where Winter Schnee was standing, looking particularly ashen faced. The Ace Operative wanted to question her appearance, ask if she was well, but she simply directed him towards the office door.

Inside, General Ironwood stood with his back to the door, arms behind his back and perfectly rigid in his posture, but even at this distance, Clover could see the troubled expression painted on his face.

Clover snapped off a crisp salute. "Please excuse my lack of uniform, sir. You said it was urgent."

"Never mind that. I have a matter I need to brief you on. It couldn't wait." The General had said, waving a dismissive hand as he turned back. His grim brooding expression remained as he circled around his desk and approach Operative. A soft chime and the hum of motor indicated that the central holographic platform was rising from the floor at the centre of the office. "You've become friends with Qrow Branwen, correct? Speak candidly."

The Captain hesitated. It seemed an odd thing to be called on his off-duty hours for something so personal. "He's probably the most cynical son of a bitch I've ever met. But I enjoy working with him, and I'd _like_ to consider him a friend, yes sir."

"I see." Ironwood answered, his tone distant and withdrawn. "Then in that vein, and in your capacity as his friend, I need you to keep an eye on him."

That was a bizarre request. Clover didn’t bother hiding his confusion at the request and frowned deeply. "May I ask why, sir? Has something happened?"

"Yes." Ironwood replied gravely, . “Earlier today, we received a report from Operative Ross. She discovered Grimm had infested Shroud, more than that, she discovered Grimm summoning pits and a man seemingly in control of them.”

Clover blinked, confused. "A man? Salem isn't the only person who can control the Grimm, sir?"

The General shook his head, punching into the controls to show the recording Moss had provided them. "I'm sure you're aware of the Evernight Emissary protocol."

Clover's teal eyes widened in horror as the film played, and the white-haired man's face turned towards the screen. "By the gods..."

Ironwood sighed heavily, arms crossed behind his back. “Qrow Branwen has been designated the Thirteenth Sovereign.”

“You can’t be serious…” Clover said, eyes wide in disbelief.

“I’m afraid this is true. Not minutes after I received the report from Moss, he appeared in this very office. He was…” Ironwood shook his head, “The man has always been so self-assured of his abilities in combat. But he was angry, arrogant, and definitely not himself. Almost as if he held a bitterness towards Atlas – perhaps towards me. Despite that anger - that negativity, he swore that he was only here to negotiate.”

Clover straightened his back. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this task, but if the General gave him his orders, he would obey without question. Regardless of his personal feelings on the matter.

“At this time, the Thirteenth Sovereign has promised me every scrap of Dust his Grimm can harvest from the resource veins under Shroud – which he’s set up as his home base for the time being. Additionally, he’s provided us with important information regarding infiltrators within our Kingdom. However, given his nature as a Grimm – as a Sovereign, no less – we must be ready in case his darker nature overcomes his reason.” Ironwood let the implications of his words hang in the air.

Clover swallowed down the lump in his throat. Though he knew the General spoke the truth and trusted him, that didn’t change the fact that this was a damned distasteful thing to do. “You want me to keep an eye on him. To make sure he doesn’t perform any actions considered untoward for Atlas.”

“It’s a hard task, and I understand if you wish to refuse this mission. Do not consider it an order, only a request that you can choose to disobey.”

“Respectfully sir, I don’t need the option to refuse. I’ll carry out this duty, and I’ll do it to the best of my abilities.” Clover answered firmly, his resolve absolute.

"Thank you." Ironwood nodded appreciatively. "Right now, he's not shown any overt malicious actions, but we must be ready in case his intentions turn treacherous. If, and when, that happens - I'll need yourself, Ms Rose and Ms Xiao Long to stop him. Attempt to appeal to whatever fragments of his humanity remains to him."

"Do you think that'll work, sir?" Clover asked cautiously.

"I don't know. But what I _do_ know is that when he was here, the Thirteenth Sovereign still had a particular soft spot for his niece. And there were glimmers of emotion that give me hope that some part of the human psyche remained,"The General looked like he aged decades in minutes as a weariness overtook him. "But given other Sovereigns have infiltrated and nearly destroyed Kingdoms the same way - I don't want to take any chances."

"Understood sir." Clover snapped off a salute. "What about the rest of his companions? The children. What should we tell them?"

"Leave that to me. I'll brief them on the situation... provided Ms Rose has followed orders and kept quiet." Ironwood exhaled a hefty sigh. "This is going to be a very difficult conversation for them all... "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clover's got a mission. Ooooooo~~!
> 
> Also, he has a fake leg. Cause screw ya'll, I'm taking this boi and running with him. :)


	10. Frozen Secrets Pt 10 -  Noticed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ironwood isn't the only one with ideas on how to deal with the Thirteenth Sovereign.

This new power was magnificent. At the merest thought, Qrow had trans-located himself away from James' little school and placed him in the streets of Atlas Central. There wasn't even a lurch, like the stomach dropping sensation that typically followed whenever he used Raven's portals - back when they were on speaking terms. 

Qrow looked up at the city, hands slipped into his pockets and nose wrinkling in disgust. 

Atlas was beautiful. One could even say perfect, but that was only from a distance. It was a glorious sight that left him in awe every time he approached it ever since he attended his first Vytal Festival as a member of Team STRQ. 

But the glamour rarely held up to scrutiny, if ever. There was an air about the place, an oppressive sense of overt superiority that permeated everything. From store fronts, to street affixes, to the manner of the very people themselves.

At times, Qrow had to remind himself that these were some of the pompous bastards he was oath sworn to protect as a Huntsmen.

_No wonder Summer bailed the first chance she got._

The people weren't evil, at least not all of them and not in the traditional sense. Mostly just ignorant. And that ignorance would cost them their lives if they weren't careful.

Qrow closed his eyes, pulling at a tiny kernel of power that suffused his soul. When he opened them again, he was in Mantle.

The city was hard and dirty, but Qrow found it infinitely more comfortable. From there, he proceeded to walk about, taking in the sites while casually weaving through back alleys to avoid the military checkpoints. He was keenly aware just how out of place his new garments made him appear and didn't want to spark attention. At least, not yet.

Idly, he smirked, wondering just how James would keep track of him if Qrow continued to teleport about based on his whims.

If Qrow knew the General, he was already pulling some ill advised plan together to keep him under surveillance and perhaps even kill him if push came to shove. 

Amused at first, thoughts of the man quickly turned to rage.

"I didn't kill him..." Qrow's dark whisper was soft, a ghost of a sound against the ambiance, but he knew his benefactor would here them. 

The other consciousness brushed against his mind, a gentle caress that belied the being it belonged to. "No, you didn't. Are you glad you waited for your tempers to cool some before speaking to the man?" 

Hesitation.

"Yes." 

"Good." Tabris' voice replied, a neutral tone that Qrow couldn't tell belonged to his male or female avatar. "I told you that decisions made in haste are one of the things I loathe above all else. Still, I believe you could've been a great deal less antagonistic."

Qrow scoffed, he stopped halfway through this particular alley and leaned against the wall, lips pressed in a thin irritated line. "I'm not about to forgive the blatant bullshit he put me through last time, nor the consequences." 

"True enough. You're hurt and your outrage is understandable, but wouldn't you say you share some of that responsibility also?" Tabris asked politely.

Qrow could feel the godly being turn a sliver of its attention to him. A feeling of warmth surged through him causing him to shudder. He closed his eyes against it, feeling that warmth tingle spread and when he opened them again, Tabris' female avatar seemingly grew out of his shadow, cast on the wall before him by the alley-way light. 

Tabris' reached a dainty hand out to cup his cheek. "I'm not chastising you. Emotions and tensions were high. There wasn't any possible way you could've resolved that conflict without force."

Qrow glanced away, frustration etched on his features before looking back at those dark eyes. "Is this what I signed on for? An eternity long therapy session?"

"You wished for a chance to right a monstrous wrong, and free my beloved children in the process. I wish for you to commit to this course wholeheartedly. _Happily_. To that end, the therapy sessions come free."

"That almost makes me regret this choice." Qrow muttered, rolling his eyes but smirking despite himself.

"You don't." Tabris laughed, an oddly musical sound as the female avatar melted back into his shadow. "Now, you have work to do. And your army isn't going to build itself." 

Qrow pushed himself off the wall and moved forward, the voice trailed behind him.

"Oh, and if you see that Hill woman? Feel free to slap her for her sheer stupidity."

* * *

Tyrian Callows was foaming at the mouth. He was in an utterly inconsolable rage while Watts studied the footage with cold calculation. His desk was an assembly of scrolls networked together to produce a makeshift computer terminal, and his screen showed the intriguing image of Qrow Branwen.

The hacked footage was from Shroud, a failed mining town outside of Mantle, where a host of new Grimm spawning pools were growing like weeds. The Huntsmen was clearly by the Grimm, and was actively working to make more creatures in those black pools. Though these new creatures possessed a unique quality.

Perhaps it was simply the climate, the proximity to the Dust in the soil, or that the creation was being directed, but the Grimm he created were of a more... refined quality for lack of a better word. Smoother, sleeker lines.

"A Sovereign. Intriguing." 

" ** _HIM_**?!" Tyrian howled, "He does not deserve our Queen's blessing!" 

"Calm down. We can use this to our advantage." Watts instructed him coolly. "Salem can extend her influenced through the Grimm hive consciousness and assume control of our new Sovereign here. From there, we can use Qrow Branwen to shatter this kingdom from within, as well as sow even more discord between Vale and Atlas."

"You want our Queen to waste her precious preparation time with this wretched little bird?" Tyrian cocked his head to the side, unable to believe what he'd just heard.

"Wouldn't that please you though? The torment it would inflict. Trapped in his own mind while his body destroys everything he worked so hard to defend?" Watts offered evenly, stroking his chin while he mused on the possibilities.

Tyrian glared at him then back to the monster. "The Queen's blessing is wasted on a man like him." His tail flexed and waved about as if to emphasize his point. He was restless, his temper grew by the second and that stinger dearly wished to finish what it started back in Mistral.

"Then by all means, tear out the core when he's completed his task. Take it for yourself it you wish. As long as it serves Salem's wishes, I'm sure she'd allow you that boon. Especially if you get your hands on that silver-eyed girl as well." Watts suggested.

Tyrian's moon improved considerably at the idea, his head cocking on one side as a steady grin stretched across his face. A notion forming in his mind. "That sounds like a _wonderful_ idea." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this about Tyrian wanting a 'core' from Qrow? Hmm... Also, someone's a little jelly. :P
> 
> Also, please check out the AU I'm writing co-currently with this one called 'Dark Hearts' if you're keen. 
> 
> A brainwashed Qrow is working for the baddies.... or is he? wink wink nudge nudge.


	11. Frozen Secrets Pt 11 - Briefing and Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover brings the kids up to speed on this potential new threat, and Qrow and Tabris have taken up residence in shroud, where the Godly being tutors his newest acolyte.

That morning, Teams RWBY, JNR, Oscar Pine and the AceOps were summoned to the briefing room at eight o'clock sharp. The young farm hand squirmed awkwardly in his chair, feeling out of place in the group of skilled Huntsmen, regardless of whatever ghost slept inside his head.

"So, what's the deal?" Jaune addresses the room. 

His words broke the tension for the newly minted huntsmen and low steady murmurs filled the room. They talked among themselves about what possible new missions they have in the works.

The only person who didn't participate in the discussion was Ruby. In fact, whenever she was prompted, she would give a strained answer that sounded far too cheerful to be real before shrinking into herself.

Yang's violet eyes locked on her sister's profile and she silently put a hand on Ruby's shoulder, a silent offer of comfort. Ruby offered a weak smile in reply.

Before long, the overhead lights dimmed and Clover Ebi strode into the room and took his place at the front of the room. His abrupt appearance caught everyone's attention. They all noted that he was withdrawn himself. His somber green eyes looked over the assembled Huntsmen.

"What I'm about to brief you on does not go beyond this room. You are not to discuss information with anyone regarding this topic, unless they are those present in this room, Adjutant Schnee or General Ironwood. Am I understood?" 

The Ace Ops responded with a dutiful 'Yes Sir', echoed shortly thereafter by Lie Ren. Various other forms of agreement followed.

"Good. Now, there's one thing I'd like to clarify first: Who here hasn't heard of a Grimm known as the Chill?" Clover began.

"The Chill? You mean like from that Grimm Child fairy tale? Or like that weird party game?" Nora piped up, eyebrows arched in confusion.

"The very same. I presume that you've all at least some form of the tale, the concept of a Grimm that can infect a human?" Clover went on. 

Though troubled, he received various forms of affirmation. The Ace Ops were cool and professional. Attentive just as they'd trained to be, but the younger members were a mix of puzzled and perturbed.

"There are other possession Grimm types out there. A particularly dangerous type that has been designated as 'Sovereign'." Clover explained, he pressed a button on his scroll and an image of an abstract cell diagram appeared on the display set in the wall.

"A Sovereign? As in a king?" Weiss questioned,

"Exactly. This Sovereign, if it ever manages to evolve into its final state, acts as a hive mind for local Grimm and can become a threat as big - if not bigger immediate threat - than Salem herself."

Blake raised her hand, "What do you mean by ‘evolve to its final state’? Does that have anything to do with what you mentioned about this being a possession type?"

Clover nodded, and tapped his scroll again. The younger class made their disgust clear at the image. A white-skinned corpse that barely appeared human, black ichor and white bones jutted at awkward angles into formless appendages.

"This is what happens when a Sovereign fails to evolve to its final form, the host human body becomes an infested breeding ground to make more of itself."

"That...  _ thing's _ a human!?" Yang voiced the universal disgust.

"This is the common result of this grimm's infection. The host is overwhelmed and dies. But every 1 in 100 000, no - more like 1 in a quarter million, the host body transforms into a hive King or Queen. A powerful Grimm Human hybrid that's nearly impossible to kill through sheer raw power alone."

"So they're humans who have been corrupted by Salem - the Grimm - to destroy everything." Ren asked.

"To give you an idea of how dangerous they are, the Fourth recorded Sovereign of our era sparked the conflict that would go on to become the first battle of the Great War some 80 years ago." Clover explained, he swallowed hard but pushed himself to continue. "The Thirteenth Sovereign has emerged recently here in Atlas."

"Who is it? " Weiss asked, uncertain if she really wanted the answer.

"This may be difficult to hear, and there's really nothing I can say to prepare you so I'll just come right out and say it." Clover stood a little straighter, "As of Two days ago, Qrow Branwen has been identified as the Thirteenth Sovereign."

* * *

The ruins of Shroud were blanketed by rime and snow, but it wouldn't be long before the skeletons of this little mining town would be restored to their proper appearance. In the open space that once served at the town's Centre and main thoroughfare, Qrow Branwen knelt by a black pool of ichor. A Grimm spawning pit that he'd made when he claimed this town as his own.

This one was different than the ones that Salem now commanded; The Creature of Grimm that spawned from this pit were nothing like her jagged and twisted abominations. 

And under the god's careful tutelage, Qrow had learned to craft these creatures from their most basic components and forge them into something closer to the God's purer version. They were the true Grimm as Tabris Nox - the God of Darkness - had once envisioned. Their lines were sleeker, cleaner and lacked the vicious silhouette of their long-deformed brethren.

One oddity that Tabris noticed was that Qrow took extra time and care into their mental capacities. He'd granted the larger Grimm of his new horde the ability to think and reason. 

True, they were still little more than feral animals when they were born and driven by instinct. But one could argue a human babe was much the same. Driven by base desire to slumber, eat or cry at any given moment until their higher reasoning develops as they grew older.

Tabris had manifested his human avatar to speak with his new acolyte, the male one this time, and politely inquired about this particular oddity.

"Salem's enslaved them long enough," Qrow defended, "If they're going to fight with me, to avenge their own and destroy Salem's armies? Then I'd rather they do it of their own free will, with all the facts. Not because some asshole told 'em to."

"I'm wondering, are you describing yourself? Or are you describing your former patron - I dare say a certain Wizard?"

Qrow grunted and looked away, lips pressed in a thin line and annoyance creasing his brow. Tabris mused, with some wry disappointment, that the boy had used his newly gifted magic to revert his hair back to its previous black. Though it was with equal amusement that the godly avatar noticed Qrow  _ neglected _ the grey hairs.

Sans the lines of fatigue on his face and the stubble, the boy looked ten years younger. What is it with mortals and their obsessions with denying the inevitable?

"I don't fault your reasoning, I was simply curious. And you have made magnificent progress. We've only began our training a few days ago, but already you've mastered how to create their basic forms and  _ alter _ their traits. You're a very quick study." Tabris complimented genuinely, he offered a kind smile, not unlike a father to a son. "And that's not even taking into account that magic is a largely foreign concept to this generation of man. Your talents are remarkable."

"I don't have time to screw around. I need to know and understand everything I received from our bargain." Qrow dismissed with a wave of the hand, glaring at his reflection in the darkness.

Tabris sighed gloomily, "Young master Clover was right. You truly do need to learn to take compliments. I'm  _ praising _ you, my friend."

"I'd rather hear; 'Salem's dead'." Qrow snarked back. He closed his eyes and remembered himself, remembered to whom he was speaking. "I'm sorry, that was rude."

The Godly being laughed at this, "Your candor is one of the things I admire most about you, lad. Don't fret over offending me. I find your bluntness refreshing."

"Right..." Qrow muttered, running his gloved fingers over the surface of the black lake, watching the ripples spread out from it touch.

"Would you like to know something intriguing?" Tabris Nox mused out loud after a long moment's silence.

It was well within his power to read the mortal's mind and guess at what he was thinking, but that was a gross violation of trust, no? Instead Tabris decided to impart another little bit of interesting triviality. "You could almost say it's yet another of Salem's perversions of a once sacred duty and office."

Qrow hummed distantly, "Okay, colour me curious. Shoot."

Tabris walked to his side and leaned down, "Did you know that the beings known and feared as 'Sovereigns', are a twisted parody of the priests who served at my temples?"

The Huntsman spun to look at him, jaw slack in shot. "Excuse you?"

"Oh, its true. It may shock you to know, but I am rather generous with my gifts. Back when my brother and I roamed this world freely, my devotees were precious few and far between. I cherished each and every one of them." Tabris explained patiently, taking a seat on a chair that sprouted perfectly sculpted by the frozen dirt.

"What - you gave them the same bag of tricks you gave me?" Qrow inquired, facing his patron.

"Not so. I gave you more." Tabris answered honestly.

Qrow rose to his feet arms crossed and brow knitted suspiciously, " _ Why _ ? What makes me so special over the others that served you in the past?" 

Tabria shook his head. The mortal didn't understand, but Tabris was nothing if not patient and he would explain all in time. "Consider the context; The last era of Man had magic, they were born with it. It was a fact of life. Yes, I granted them small echoes of my power so they could properly tend to my beloved pets as part of their duties to maintain my shrines - to rally them against defilers."

The god pointed towards him, "You, however? Tell me, how long did it take for you to believe Ozpin that magic was indeed real?" 

Qrow's lips pressed in a thin line. "So you didn't really make me some sort of superhuman. You just brought me up to their level."

"Is that a hint of jealousy I sense in you, child?" The god teased, Qrow grunted but didn't deny it either way. How preciously adorable.

"And as you can doubtless tell from witnessing a Maiden's magic first hand, that is approximate to a quarter of what Salem could achieve."

"And she's had eons to hone her skills right?" Qrow scratched his stumbled chin in thought. He began to pace back and forth around this edge of the spawning pit, scrutinizing it.

"The others of this era. The twelve humans who were corrupted by the Sovereign parasite into… those monsters. What are they really?" He wondered,

Tabris leaned back in the chair, hands folded across his lap with no small amount of pity in his tone. "Pawns. Poor unfortunate souls tainted by the pools into becoming Salem's human slaves. Even now, long after their physical bodies have been destroyed, they still twist and writhe within those warped pools in my own home."

Qrow stopped cold and looked at the dark God. “Their souls still exist in this world? So… that means they’re not dead, not completely at any rate.”

“That’s a fair approximation of the state of affairs. Trapped as they are, they cannot even pass on to the peace of the next life. A pitiful fate, really.” Tabris sighed unhappily.

Qrow stared at the spawning pool and knelt by it again. “Another question I have; about this pit and others like it?”

“Of course. Ask away.” Tabris encouraged with a nod,

“What’s it made of? I mean, what’s actually in this stuff?” Qrow asked, poking at the ichor again. Absently adding more ripples to the surface.

Tabris was intrigued by this line of questioning, but answered regardless. He wanted to see where this young man was going. “Bluntly? While it's of a different make up, it contains the same base materials as the ‘primordial soup’ as your scientists call it that man, and now faunas, was made from.”

“In Laymen’s terms, this stuff has all the basic ingredients for building bodies, right?” 

The lad was clearly warming to an idea and Tabris was becoming more concerned than intrigued. “Precisely what are you getting at?”

“Well, there’s been twelve true Sovereigns right? That means there’s twelve disembodied souls floating around in black goop.” Qrow’s lips split into a grin, “And that means there’s twelve people, equal parts powerful and pissed the hell off, I can rescue.” 

“Ah,” Tabris nodded slowly, somberly. “While I hate to burst your bubble as mortals say, there’s two unfortunate caveats that I must point out in that particular plan of yours.”

“Please enlighten me.” Qrow asked, the grin faded into mild annoyance.

“For starters, the souls have been tormented by the powers of destruction since the death of their mortal shells anywhere from a year to a century ago. That much time spent in agony would hardly leave a person particularly sane.” Tabris explained patiently raising a finger, he raised a second. 

“Secondly, this pool is isolated from the greater Reservoir. Think of them as trees. While some trees sprout from the same root cluster under the soil, this is a second tree planted independent of the first. They’re not connected, so you cannot retrieve the souls you want to save.”

Qrow’s shoulders slumped and he growled, frustrated that his idea was firmly trounced into dust. Though his frustration ran deeper than simply a child being denied their desire. The key word he expressed was ‘rescue’. He wanted to give those souls a second chance at life and an opportunity for vengeance. 

“It's not impossible to connect them in such a way that will allow you to achieve your objective. Its an admirable goal, but if you do you run the very real risk of alerting Salem to your presence in the Reservoir. It's likely she already has plans for those souls, and if she detects they’ve been taken, she might step up her plans for invading Atlas.” Tabris informed the Huntsman patiently.

“You also run the very real risk that those souls may be nowhere near sane enough to even  _ appreciate _ the gift of a second life you’re offering them.” The God told him coolly.

Qrow frowned. He drew in a heavy breath while he considered the possibilities. “Selfish as it sounds, as long as I can reach as far back as the Seventh Sovereign, then I’d consider the whole stupid ass idea a success.” 

Tabris smirked, “I see. You’re trying to asway your own guilty conscience.”

“Is that so wrong?” Qrow asked him, oddly morose. “I did something terrible, and now I have the chance to fix it. Even if it’s only temporary.”

“Its a dangerous game you’re playing, lad. When one plays with fire, they’ll get burned.” Tabris warned, then closed his eyes and rose to his feet. “But if that’s what you’d like to attempt, then I won’t stop you. You already have more than enough power to deal with the consequences. Now pay attention, I’ll teach you how to peer into the depths.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playing with some concepts. Also, I'm going to probably break the two stories into separate entries, since I'm likely going to make Dark Hearts into a Hummingbird story with how the plot's playing out in my head right now. Or at least, Qrow x OC. That, and I've been steadily re-writing and making it as 'In the Pale Moonlight'. 
> 
> I'll see how things pan out.
> 
> But for now, I hope you enjoyed what you read!


	12. Dark Hearts pt 1 - Its Brawl In The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New V3 AU Story! (title's a WIP)
> 
> "They had reason to assume you'd been compromised!" Winter's accusation was hard, but true. Their fear entirely justified.
> 
> But that accusation raises a new question: Just who holds Qrow's leash now? And what are their intentions for the good Kingdom of Vale?

> **Author's note:** So, I admit I'm copying **Beware_The_Tristero** a bit with this format. The 'stories within stories' collection ideal. I am still working on the former story, but I've had the latter idea for months now and I'm just itching to get it started. Still inspired by them, because holy crap I never would've thought of shipping Qrow X Gods. Lets be real, the man deserves nothing less. :P
> 
> **Themes** : Possession, Memory Loss, Torture, Mind-Rape

* * *

**Its Brawl In The Family**

* * *

Winter Schnee stalked back and forth in the Ozpin's office, her heels making loud echoing clacks with every step. Ironwood kept his irritation and composure far better than the young specialist did as they waited.

Over her life, Winter had dealt with her fair share of humiliation in the past, but to be... Winter loathed to use the term 'bested'. That arrogant braggart was drunk and it seemed his singular purpose was to get under her skin, to make her lose her composure in front of the civilians. In front of her superior office.

Was he _trying_ to sow discord among them? 

Even in her furious impatience, Winter's pace still marched in time with a beat. In this case, the constant rotating of the gears embedded into Ozpin's ceiling and floor, visible through the glass. The elevator chime ended their waiting, and the door swished open to reveal the object of their irritation, flanked by Headmaster Ozpin and Deputy-Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch.

"Well?!" Winter barked, utterly incredulous when Qrow simply flashed a cheeky smirk.

"Its something you pull water out of." Qrow answered as he, Glynda and Ozpin crossed the room. Glynda to assume a spot by Ozpin's desk and Ozpin to assume his chair, chin resting on his folded hands.

"What were you thinking?!" Winter demanded.

The drunk Huntsman ignored her in favour of his flask.

"If you were one of my men, I'd have you shot!" Ironwood snapped.

The Huntsman rolled his eyes. "If I was one of your men, I'd shoot myself."

"While I wouldn't condone his behavior," Goodwitch gave Qrow a good glare which he also ignored, "retaliating the way you have certainly didn't help matters. Were you _trying_ to spark an international incident with that display?" Glynda chastised.

"He was drunk!" Winter protested in her defense.

"He's always drunk." Glynda brushed off, casting another glare towards Qrow as he knocked back the contents of his hip flask without a care in the world.

"Why, oh why, am I drunk I wonder?" Qrow mused philosophically, pulling his flask back and running his thumb over the embossed leather in mock contemplation. "Is it because I like the taste? I like the buzz and I enjoy fucking with people for a laugh? Is it just existential dread? Or is it because we're fighting a super secret war against the literal devil herself? With a vast assortment of Grimm under her command whose dead set on murdering everything on the face of this planet?"

Winter frowned, confused for a moment before she --

"Schnee. _Leave_. Now. We'll discuss this matter later." Ironwood's tone was iron, brooking no argument.

"But sir-"

"I gave you an order, Lieutenant." The General growled.

Winter Schnee's protest died on her tongue. Instead she promptly saluted, turned face and left. On her way out, she sent an extremely bitter glare towards Qrow who simply winked at her in return.

"How dare you-!" Ironwood's rage spiked.

"If you didn't want your precious runaway heiress in the know, then maybe think twice before inviting her to the adult's table next time." Qrow shot back, nonplussed and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to the elevator. "Who even invited her, anyway?"

" **_Qrow_ **..." Ozpin had reached his limit and sighed in exasperation, head hung in his hand before he looked his spymaster in the eye. "Why are you here? Your assignment--"

Ironwood cut in. "You've been out of contact for weeks! You can't just go dark like that in the field!"

Qrow snorted derisively, glaring at the General while pointing a finger to Ozpin. "Do I _look_ like one of your cheerleaders, Jimmy? Last I checked, you're not the one signing my pay cheques. Listen, you sent me to get Intel on the bad guys, and I hate to break it to you, but the bad guys are already here."

Gylnda nodded grimly, "We know." 

Qrow's voice rose in irritation, "Oh! Oh you already know? Well, thank the gods I'm out there risking my life to keep all of you informed!"

"We had reason to assume you'd been compromised." Ironwood stated coldly, his manner unyielding.

"And, who the hell put you in charge?" Qrow cut back hard, "As just established; I don't work for you, James. That's not your call to make."

"Qrow-!"

"Communication's a two-way street pal. See, if you look here on your scroll, point it out with me here, see that little button right there?" Qrow pulled his black and gold scroll from his pocket and rather patronizingly pointed towards it. "It's called the 'send' button!"

"Alright, enough!" Glynda Goodwitch cut in, putting herself between the two men and pushing them apart. She carried the tone of a strict authoritarian. "We'll be trapped in this office _forever_ if you two keep this up. So, instead of continuing this dick-measuring contest, why not fill us in on your report Qrow?"

Ironwood met Glynda's challenging gaze evenly. Qrow, true to form, clearly couldn't care less either way. The General backed down and the Spy slipped his flask into his pocket.

"Fine then. Go on." Ironwood prompted through gritted teeth.

"Your little infiltrator? They're not just some pawn. They're the one who stole Autumn." Qrow explained, brow furrowing. "So, yes. I've been offline. Because I've been trying to track down and _end_ the bitch, before she traipses her way into our little treasure trove."

"What?" Glynda balked, "You're certain?"

"Wouldn't have said so if I wasn't."

Ironwood tapped a finger against his arm. "When you failed to check in, we found Amber's body and signs of a struggle. But you vanished. Care to explain your version of events?"

"Didn't you just hear a word I said?" Qrow snapped, "I wish I could've given her a proper burial, but I'm sorry to say funeral rites are a little low on the priorities list when someone's pissed off with a key to one of the cosmic reset buttons. Sorry for being more concerned with keeping us all alive."

"And not because you wanted revenge for your charge, I assume?" Glynda muttered under her breath.

"Enough of that. Maybe you can answer me something James. Tell me, do I have to explain to you what the definition of 'subtlety' is? Or secrecy? I promise I'll use small words just for you." Qrow glared at the man.

"I'm sure you'll reach your point eventually, so why don't we skip the usual repartee?" Ironwood cut in.

"We're the ones who protect the world from the unknown, the shadows that combat the evils that go bump in the night, and its why we meet behind closed doors. So you tell me, James. When you brought your army to Vale, did you think you were being discreet or did you just not give a damn?"

"Discreet wasn't working." Ironwood dismissed, placing his scroll on the table. The holographic projector showed a map of the City of Vale, the Amity Arena and the air fleet in a protective formation. "I'm here because this is what was necessary."

"You claim that, but 'discreet' doesn't work because you don't have the patience to wait for it to work, James." Glynda interjected, arms crossed over her chest.

"Get off your high-horse. You're here because Oz wanted you here. He's the one who made you part of this battle." Qrow declared.

"And I am grateful."

"Some gratitude. Cutting his legs out from under him. In bird culture, that's a dick move."

"Your levity isn't appreciated." Ironwood growled, "The people of Vale needed someone to protect them, someone who would act. When they look to the sky and see my fleet, they feel safe. And our enemies will feel our strength."

"No. They don't." Glynda shook her head, her tone grave. "They don't feel safe, they're wondering right now why a foreign leader has parked his army atop their Kingdom. They don't feel safe, James. They're waiting for the first strike of a new war."

Ironwood looked at her, reeling back as if struck by a blow.

"If Salem's cronies are scared of your little flying tin cans, then I'm the Brothers-damn Empress of Mistral." Qrow drawled sarcastically. "I've been out there, I've seen the things she's made, the things she's _done_. She is fear incarnate."

"And that fear will inevitably bring the Grimm to our gates." Ozpin rose to his feet, snatching the attention of all three of his subordinates. "We need to rally our people behind a symbol of comfort. A Guardian. But this army, this symbol of conflict, has only sparked an energy in the air. A question that hangs over everyone now: If these are our defenses, what are we going to fight?"

* * *

Cinder paced back and forth, a deep frown etched on her face. Mercury's report was... disturbing, and meant one of two things. "You're sure?"

Mercury fished out his scroll from his back pocket. "Yeah, it was him. Bad hair. Used a broad sword and smelt piss drunk. Even got a picture."

The video recording of Qrow Branwen fighting the Atlas Specialist, causing significant damage to the courtyard and risking the lives of civilians in the process. 

Cinder returned to her pacing, deep in thought. When they had stolen the Fall Maiden's powers and killed her, they had captured Qrow Branwen in the process. The foolish Huntsmen had failed to save his charge, and Cinder felt that Salem would be very interested to hear what the man had to say. He was one of Ozpin's most trusted. Even more so than Leonardo Lionheart. The right hand, the right eye and spymaster. What secrets lurked inside his mind? Secrets Salem would pry out piece by agonizing piece.

When last Cinder saw the man, he was a pathetic shell of himself chained against a wall while Salem was taking personal charge of his interrogation. She had witnessed Salem employing a strange technique, one mimicked by the gauntlet Cinder had used to acquire the Maiden powers. But unlike Cinder, Salem required no Grimm proxy to perform her technique. And her intention wasn't to kill the man, but remake him.

Cinder watched as Salem cast her spells, each time ripping a fresh scream of agony from the Huntsman, and a fresh piece of his soul. An ephemeral sliver Salem would hold in her hand like a ribbon then disintegrate. Despite the unimaginable torment, he didn't break.

Oh, how Cinder wished she could have listened to him scream over and over again. Compensation for all the grief he caused, but she had a task to complete.

His presence at Beacon now implied two possibilities: The first being Salem had succeeded in her task. She had torn the soul away and reforged Qrow Branwen into an obedient servant of her whims. In which case, Cinder now had a new much more valuable ally here in Vale. 

The second, and far less likely possibility, was that he had escaped from Salem's clutches. But Cinder doubted it. The last time she saw Qrow Branwen, he'd been reduced to a pathetic husk who couldn't even remember his own name. His very identity scoured from existence.

"What do we do?" Emerald asked cautiously.

"Nothing for the time being. We stay the course for now, and observe the situation. It's quite possible we have nothing to worry about. But remember your escape plans. If our... _potential_ friend is with us or against us, we will find out in time." Cinder instructed them as she crossed the room to where her scroll sat on the table. "Besides, we've managed to amend the plan after the Grimm invasion."

"And I wonder who fucked that one up?" Qrow Branwen said, leaning on the window sill. 

Emerald and Mercury jumped to their feet, ready for a fight. 

"Oh sit the fuck down, you brats. Do you really think I'd announce myself so openly if I wasn't on your side?" The Huntsman crossed his arms and leaned against the window. "Also, word to the wise? Maybe check the window lock next time, you amateurs."

"But--" Emerald shot a disbelieving look to the window, the lock and then to Cinder and Mercury. "But I locked it. I made sure of that."

"Bad luck, huh? Well, then, sucks to be you." Qrow mused out loud.

"Ah, I see you've finally come around to our way of thinking, have you?" Cinder mused, taking him in with a certain level of perverse pride. A shrug was her reply.

Qrow was different. His _eyes_ were different. The same core of defiant bright red, but highlights of a rich purple. Cinder felt her lip curl into a slight smile. It appears that whatever corruption Salem had planted in the errant huntsman's being, it had swayed his loyalties completely to the Grimm Queen. The old expression was 'eyes were the window into the soul', and that corrupted soul was showing through nicely.

"The invasion wasn't supposed to happen until your big finale right? So, who dropped the ball there?" Qrow questioned again.

"Those stupid kids on Team RWBY." Emerald answered, following Cinder's lead.

Qrow nodded slowly. "Yeah, they do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, Qrow's kinda evil... ish. Enjoy this plot bunny. :D


	13. Dark Hearts Pt 2 - Past and Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past is painful, and Cinder makes some revisions to her plan in light of new information.
> 
> Triggers: Body horror, amputation.

_Qrow tried to tear his mind away from his current predicament. Unfortunately, the oppressive darkness yielded no distractions from this hopeless plight._

_The bastards who captured him stripped him of his jacket and cast it aside in a crumbled mess, along side it was what remained of his loyal Harbinger. Its broken state acting as a dark parallel to its master._

_Qrow's head was pounding from a mix of withdrawal and, if the nausea he felt was an indication, what was most likely a concussion. His face was pressed against the cold and unyielding stone floor. The sick scent of stale sweat and old, dried blood filled his nostrils. Its lingering presence left a coppery taste in his mouth._

_Even deprived of light, his mental assessment was that his wounds were significant. His pale flesh was littered with brilliant purple bruises, livid weeping cuts that only received the bare minimum of treatment. Doubtlessly, they would become infected before long. And those were only the surface injuries._

_The sharp winces from his right side in particular told him his ribs were badly damaged. Experience and the way his breathing hitched and caught confirmed in his mind that those were in fact, breaks. It was sheer luck, or sheer bad luck, that his lung hadn't been punctured... yet._

_It took every ounce of his meagre aura supply just to keep himself functional, and those levels wouldn't recover any time soon until his physical injuries were healed. The chances of that happening however? Well, what was the old saying? Spit in one hand, wish in the other._

_Thick iron manacles pinned his arms behind his back, which certainly didn't help matters. Their weight were as much a confine to him as the chains that pinned him in place. Numerous times since regaining consciousness, Qrow tried to level himself off the cold ground with his legs as counterweights._

_But he couldn't do it._

_Distressingly, he realised he couldn't even feel his legs. That sent a spike of panic through him but he willed himself to calm down. His captors likely anticipated any escape attempts and used some form of paralytic agent to keep him immobile._

_The situation was far from comfortable and less than ideal. But this current reality paled in comparison to the catastrophic failure that brought Qrow to this dire scenario._

_He had failed. Singularly and utterly failed. And that reality caused twin feelings to burn through his guts as surely as an infection; Unyielding rage and inescapable self-loathing._

_The unyielding rage gave birth to a desire for vengeance against the duplicitous trio who managed to slay poor young Amber. And in truth, part of that rage was aimed at himself as well._

_Qrow was supposed to protect his charge, but he didn't. He should've been faster. But he wasn't. And now? Now another young life was added to those already weighing down his overburdened conscience._

_As his mind ran through dozens of scenarios and what-if's it inevitably turned its focus back to its favourite hobby: tormenting him._

_"It was your semblance, you idiot. It's always been your semblance." The churlish voice in his head chastised with grim resignation, the same one that drove him to find hollow comfort in drink and cheap companionship. "The old man should've known better, should've known not to let a walking bad luck charm protect one of his super secret magical girls."_

_Before the voice could send Qrow further down the path of self-flagellation, and lamenting the fact he couldn't knock back his flask to silence it, a heavy stone rumble echoed through the dark chamber. The door opened slowly, menacingly, casting a penetrating beam of purple-ish light through the chamber._

_"As I live and breath! Qrow Branwen, a true Huntsmen. Such an honour to meet you." A theatrical tone announced._

_Qrow couldn't move his head at an angle to see the person addressing him, but he could hear the food steps draw closer and feel their vibration through the ground._

_The figure circled around until he entered Qrow's vision. A man, garbed in a white jumpsuit with brown boots and gauntlets. Even without looking at the guy's face, Qrow could already tell just from the body language that this guy was a grade-A maniac._

_"You know, for such a little bird, I had always longed to see you face to face on the battlefield. But alas, that twas not meant to be. Such a tragedy."_

_Qrow scoffed, but it came out as more of a hacking cough. "Why don't you take these chains off then, pal? We can have a friendly spar and see who the better fighter is."_

_The man laughed hysterically before affecting a mocking tone that Qrow supposed was some form of feigned sympathy. "While I would dearly love to acquiesce your request, for it is such a tempting offer, I'm afraid that it will be quite impossible for you. Especially after Her Grace is... finished with her interrogation."_

_Qrow growled in frustration, "I wouldn't be so sure, pal. Why don't you try it out? I might be more a challenge than you think."_

_"Once perhaps," The maniac agreed with a solemn nod, but it wasn't long before a truly psychotic grin spread across his face. "But I fear you may find it difficult to fight when you have no legs."_

_Qrow's eyes widened at the words before the man's brown boot kicked him onto his side. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his body that rendered his vision blurry for a few moments, but from this new angle, he saw--_

_His legs - what was_ left _of them - ended as a pair of blood-soaked ragged stumps. Dark red embers of his aura leaked from the poorly bound limbs._

_The horrified screams were echoed then drowned by manic laughter._

* * *

Cinder was positively delighted by this turn of events. 

Their new friend was giving them everything they wanted and more. And what's more, he was doing it of his own free will. The newly minted Fall Maiden liked to believe that perhaps there was some aspect of his old self locked in the back of his mind, trapped by Salem's machinations while his body was working to destroy the Kingdom he worked so fruitlessly to protect.

"A Sovereign Host, you say?" Cinder echoed, intrigued.

"A Sovereign? I don't get it, what's that mean?" Emerald tried to chime in but he wasn't even spared a glance.

"Hush, adults are talking." Qrow dismissed him quickly and continued on with his explanation. "The Nikos kid was at the epicentre of a huge Grimm outbreak about six years ago. Old man Oz was the one who lead the task force that neutralised her. After that, he made arrangements for her to be trained so that he could one day wield her Sovereign side as a weapon against Salem."

"And she still possesses a core?" Cinder inquired.

"Yeah. It can be reawakened given the right external circumstances. A huge part of her training was mental focus and conditioning. Jury's out on how well that's stuck." The corrupt Huntsman explained.

"Well then, that makes our plans much more interesting. With sufficient stress, we can destabilise her control, let her run rampant." Cinder mused out loud, moving to her scroll on the desk. 

"I still don't buy it," Mercury crossed his arms, glaring at the Huntsman. "Why should we even trust you? Last time I checked, you were trying to kill us just as much as we were tryin' to kill you. And suddenly, you're all pally with us? Get real."

The Huntsmen's red-and-purple eyes levelled at him blankly. "I can happily change that state of affairs if you'd like? If I wanted to, nothing would stop me from gutting you with an honest to gods smile on my face."

Mercury shot to his feet, "Oh yeah?! Br-"

" _Quiet_." Cinder ordered sternly. Mercury gave her a look, nodded once and resumed his seat. "You do raise an interesting suggestion. But how can we be sure you're not deceiving us?"

"Its like you said, I've... had a _change_ in perspective." Qrow dismissed with a shrug, "And if you choose to reawakened the 9th Sovereign in Pyrrha Nikos, then doesn't that just add more ammo to play with in this little game of yours?"

He pushed himself off the window sill and made his way to the room door. "And when all's said and done, I'll lead you to the Beacon vault myself. Sound good? Good."

Qrow Branwen didn't wait for an answer when he opened and closed the door behind him. Emerald and Mercury exchanged looks with one another, and Cinder? Well, she had one more thing she wanted. It was something petty. An outside observer would call it base and immature, but for Cinder, it was a need to assert control.

Cinder spotted Qrow Branwen not even five metres down the hallway. A smirk playing on her lips. 

"Qrow..."

He turned to look at her. His eyes had already returned to their base faded red colour.

"Why don't you join me later?" It was a statement more than a request. "We can... _celebrate_ your grand epiphany in a much more intimate way."

Celebration was the last thing on her mind. She wanted to dominate this man, this obstacle that dared stand in the way of her destiny. 

Cinder's hand stroked his stubble-coated chin. Applying a touch of the maiden's fiery magics to her fingers. A light sizzling emitted from the contact and smelt of burning flesh, mute warning that she was not to be denied.

"Cinder. Your offer is a tempting one. And believe you me, I truly understand what you're trying to do. But I want you to listen to me  _ very  _ carefully." He pulled her hands gently from him and held them between them, apparently ignorant of the fire magic burning his palms. "If I wanted a greedy little whore, I'd  _ pay _ for one."

With that, he shoved Cinder aside hard like she was little more than a rag-doll as he rounded the corner. A categorical rejection. Anger surged through Cinder and she gathered fiery magic in her hand, ready to aim at his back until --

"Uncle Qrow!"

Damn her. Damn that Rose girl! Cinder extinguished the flame just in time and pressed her back against the hallway wall and out of sight. A second voice, that blond bitch of her sister, joined the first.

"Hey Uncle Qrow. Rubes and I were gonna head off for some lunch. Feel like grabbing a bite to eat?"

"Sure. Got any good food kiosks in the fairgrounds this year?"

Their chatter faded and Cinder felt her rage reach boil, stewing in the insult to her pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now. I'm evil. That's all I'll say. So the questions are as follows: How did Qrow get his legs back? And what will Cinder do in revenge for Qrow literally brushing her off like a gnat?
> 
> ... NGL. I love this plot bunny. If I were to give you a hint as to precisely _what_ is going on with Qrow... lets just say I'm a big fan of Apotheosis as a theme. Make of that what you will. :)


	14. Dark Hearts Pt 3 - Illusive Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Ironwood's Orders, Winter postpones her trip back to Atlas to investigate Qrow Branwen for any signs of suspicious activity.

For a supposed master spy, Qrow Branwen was shockingly easy to trail.

Winter's return to her Atlas posting was postponed by a last-minute assignment. Such was the way of things in her chosen career path, but what was strange about this particular case was General Ironwood giving her the option to say no. He had laid out the task before her, and told her in no uncertain terms she was allowed to reject the assignment.

The choice was unnecessary. Winter would perform the task she had been given, and she would perform it scrupulously. 

Weiss was particularly pleased to be seeing more of her, and Winter's feelings on that matter were mutual. However, Winter also lacked sufficient downtime to spend with Weiss. At best, they could manage fleeting conversations that lasted perhaps ten minutes at the most. The Specialist couldn't allow much more leeway than that.

For the next four days, the first round of the Vytal festival continued. Four student matches were held in the morning, each given a thirty minute time limit with a fifteen minute intermission between matches to clear out and restore the arena. In the evening, professional Huntsmen would engage in one-on-one or two-or-two rounds as entertainment. 

Qrow spent the beginning of the day milling about the fairgrounds, interacting with students and admirers alike - Team STRQ were famous in their time, and even for some time after. His reputation often preceded him. Although Winter wondered how many of those admirers were born from witnessing his spat with her. 

In the evening whenever he wasn't accompanied by his nieces, he would predictably bar hop. Meeting up with fellow Huntsmen and Huntresses, swapping stories and tips in exchange for drinks, lien or favours. Most of the time when he wasn't attending to meetings with Professors Ozpin and Goodwitch, he would accompany his nieces whenever they weren't in the spectator stands: Yang and Ruby, her sister's teammates. 

Privately, Winter was astonished to witness his capacity to act like a mature and responsible adult while spending time with them. At least, on the surface. Maybe there was more to this drunken lunatic than she was willing to admit. 

It wasn't until the fifth night that there was a change in the observed routine. Qrow made his way to a garage in south Vale's Capital in the slums. And apparently, he'd used one of those favours accrued from a previous night's worth bar-hopping to hitch a ride with a Huntress.

The Huntress in question was Ana Splav, she was known in the Vale circle as being an engineering genius who directed autonomous drones to fight Grimm in her stead and something of a biking enthusiast. According to the mission board records, she had been attending to a long-term extermination mission in Mountain Glenn, and from what Winter observed, she was very dismissive of Qrow Branwen's request while she prepped for her departure. Her evidently signature bike's engine roaring and humming.

At least initially. 

Then she saw a glimmer of silver, a coin or something similarly small pass between them, and Anna's disposition completely changed. She allowed Qrow to mount her motor cycle after her and they had both sped off at illegal speeds.

Winter chose a more practical form of transport to make her way to the abandoned region. Military aircraft made regular patrols in that area and she used her authority to requisition use of one for her mission. she had read the after-action reports provided by the military, as well as the accounts of her sister and Team RWBY.

The recent Grimm invasion was confirmed to have come from the old train lines that connected the two cities. Though the Specialist was puzzled, she couldn't fathom what his reasons must be. Was his intention to investigate the area for security reasons? Or trying to gain an 'on-the-ground' perspective for where the Grimm invasion occurred? Or was there another assignment he was on unrelated to those presented on the bounty boards. Or did it that one of those favours involved trading mission assignments? Such a thing was... evidently common outside of Atlas. Huntsmen trading missions and assignments like they were collectors items.

When Winter arrived an hour later, she peered down at the ruins below with a grim expression.

Mountain Glenn was a desolate corpse of a place. Fitting for a region historians largely referred to as ‘The world’s largest’ tomb. And the light of the shattered moon only added to the dark dreary atmosphere. 

This place was once a bustling hub of commerce, expansion and symbolised hope. And now it was all skeletons of rusted iron and chipped concrete, interspersed by green and brown plant life that curled around the structures like gnarled fingers. As if Remnant’s greedy claws were determined to claim the abandoned structures as its own.

Winter had to be especially careful now. It was impossible to tell where Qrow Branwen would be. And while there were precious few signs of life outside the occasional Grimm, that meant there was just as much a chance that he would find her first. And that would lead to some very awkward explaining. She barely got two steps around the corner of this particular drag of main street before --

"So what did I do to earn the pleasure of your company, Specialist Schnee?" Qrow Branwen drawled behind her, Winter spun on her heel and glared at him. It was all she could do to cover the fact that he'd jumped her so completely.

Her hand went to her rapier's hilt in alarm, but it was clear the Huntsman had no interest in a fight for now. His arms were crossed over his torso and he leaned languidly against a concrete shopfront. Recovering quickly, Winter stood up straight. 

"That's classified." She declared in a firm tone and Qrow rolled his eyes.

"James' orders then. Eh, figures." He sighed, sounding more disappointed than alarmed, "Yeah, should've known. That bastard --"

" _General_."

"--doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me right now, does he?" Qrow paused then frowned. "Let me guess, he got piss-y when I lipped off at him and he sent you alone to spy on me. I have to say, Schnee. For a 'specialist', you make a shitty spy. Even without the uniform, you'd stick out like a sore thumb from a mile away."

Winter grit her teeth and stood a little straighter, her hands clasped behind her back to affect her typical manner of professionalism. Even if she couldn't keep the irritation out of her tone. "In case you haven't been informed of recent events, this region was the inception site of the recent Grimm invasion that assaulted South Vale. I've been instructed to make an assessment of the area to ensure security of the Kingdom's borders."

The excuse was an easy one to rattle off, and sounded realistic enough. But it was clear her Huntsman counterpart didn't believe a word of it.

"Of course. Atlas wants to 'protect all of us' huh?" He pushed himself off the concrete and faced her directly. "Always butting in where you don't belong."

"I could say the same for you right now." Winter shot back haughtily, "This area is sealed off to unauthorised personnel."

"Yeah, you're outside your oh-so-precious jurisdiction, Icequeen. Try another line on me." He sauntered towards her, past her with his eyes set on the huge mountain that the city was named for, and the mountain top that marked the abandoned dust mine within.

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me what passed between you and the Huntress, Anna Splav?" Winter inquired firmly, figuring another line of questioning might work better.

"I don't really think you're in any position to be asking me questions, Ms Stalker." Qrow shot back, clearly only emphasising the last part to get a rise out of Winter. Her response was to grit her teeth.

He closed his eyes and shrugged with a slight smile curling his lips. "But, if you insist on knowing, I'm going to awaken the Wyvern in that cliff and tame it. Hopefully, these long eons slumbering haven't driven it too far over the edge."

The frank confession took Winter off guard, and for a moment she thought he truly had gone mad. Or that she'd been struck by temporary insanity and misheard him. " _What_?"

"Would you like to know something?" Qrow offered with an oddly tranquil tone as he looked up at the heavens, his focus on the shattered moon.

The celestial sphere was at its fullest, appeared to be whole at this angle, and the shattered remnants being nothing more than interesting geological blemishes on its surface.

"James was right."

Winter blinked, then her eyes widened when Qrow looked over his shoulder at her. Haloed by the moon, his visage was all the more terrifying. His irises were no longer that shifting red, but a dark violet.

"When Amber was killed, I _was_ captured by Salem. She cut off my legs to make sure I wouldn't escape, then she took her time with me. Using her twisted magics to peel away layer after layer of my soul. My mind along with it." He turned and walked towards her, Winter took an involuntary step back and her hand went to her rapier once more. "Can you imagine it? Losing yourself piece by piece? Memories of your cherished loved ones vanishing on the whims of a demon witch?"

With a flash, the rapier was out and had struck down hard. Just as quickly the blow was parried and deflected by the broadsword at Qrow's back. "You've gone insane. The General was right, you _are_ compromised.I cannot allow you to continue any further. By order of the Atlas Military, you're hereby under arrest."

Hundreds of questions were racing through Winter's mind: Who was Amber? Who was Salem? Just what else was she capable of? Especially if she had turned a man like Qrow Branwen, a man that for all his faults was reported to be nothing but loyal to Ozpin, could be turned so completely against them. And what was this about cutting off his legs?! He was standing quite clearly and Winter had been around enough soldiers to tell when someone's limbs are prosthetic or not. 

With a sharp breath, Winter focused herself on the task at hand.

She would not get out of this battle unscathed, and she had no doubt her foe would simply allow her to leave after that frank confession.

"You think you can handle that? Schnee, you couldn't handle me when I was piss drunk. What makes you think you can handle me when I'm stone cold sober?" Qrow asked blankly, a thin black eye brow raised. 

"Do not underestimate me, nor the power of the Atlas military." Winter declared fiercely. 

"I don't see the military, I just see a woman whose in way over her head." Qrow declared, he closed his eyes and sheathed his sword. The gesture almost perfectly mirroring the one from their battle earlier in the week. "Lucky for you, I have no intention of hurting you. One; that'd waste my time with pointless and avoidable questions. Two; to obtain my objective, I need some semblance of autonomy."

"You talk as though you could take me down so easily, but I will not be defeated by the likes of you." Winter scoffed, "And precisely what _is_ your objective?" 

"That's not relevant, really." Qrow shrugged dismissively, "For now, my little confession is done. And you? Well... Sorry to say, I have to do some editing. And, regrettably, its not going to be pleasant." 

Winter lunged at him with a roar, but he made no motion to move. His lips simply creased into a smile and he snapped his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qrow... what did you do?


	15. Dark Hearts Pt 4 - Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another glimpse of Qrow's time as Salem's prisoner, and the factions react to the aftermath of the escapade into Mountain Glenn

_His name..._

_He tried to think, trying to remember what it was. But no matter how hard he tried, it was a static void in his memory. Like so many other things._

_He couldn't remember what he couldn't remember, but the sorrow and grief from the lack of recollection brought tears to his eyes. Thin tracks that ran down his cheeks._

_The white-faced woman would come, she would carve another piece of him. He would scream in agony while she would interrogate him and he would deny her again and again. The agony would tear through him on a fundamental level, but peeling another face from his mind._

_All the same, he was asked questions and he would choke out bitter defiance through a hoarse throat. It ended with him in the hell of the woman's displeasure._

_This was a rare lull in activity. His body was left to hand on the wall by a set of manacles embedded into the wall. The prisoners who likely graced these walls had legs to stand on. The man who'd forgotten his name had no such luck. His legs were missing, cut off by his captors, and leaving the thick roughly forged iron to bare the entirety of his weight. The metal cut into his skin,_

_"You've met with a terrible fate."_

_The prisoner gasped, eyes darting frantically around the room to locate the source of the voice._

_It belonged to another. A prisoner like him. This one was different. One of those creatures - a faunas! Yes, that was the term. The nameless man was elated he remembered that tiny detail._

_He couldn't make out the fellow prisoner's face or features, only their silhouette. They were male, lean in build with a pair of curved horns sprouting from their forehead. One horn was broken to the root, the other was chipped and hollowed like a tooth infested with cavities._

_"w-Who are you?!" The action of speaking hurt the nameless man's ribs, he was breathless and his muscles screamed._

_"I am a prisoner of this place, much like you."_

_"I-I don't believe you!" He sputtered weakly, sounding more a child hurling words at the dark than the veteran Huntsman he once was as a whole being._

_"Believe isn't required in this situation. Know that perhaps, you and I will find some company in each other's suffering." The figure said, defeated._

_"C-can you get me out of this?"_

_"I fear that... I lack the power to do even that." The other prisoner replied._

_The nameless man's breathing hitched when he saw the figure hoist himself to his feet and stagger ever so slowly to him. "We are both trapped here for a time. But for now, allow me to offer you some measure of peace."_

_"N-no, please--" The faunas prisoner placed his hand on the man's bare chest, a faint tendril of purple energy flowed from the faunas, and the amnesiac prisoner felt - for the first time since this nightmare began - a measure of blissful calm._

_Fatigue overcame him and his eyes slide closed for a deep dreamless slumber._

* * *

Professor Ozpin was more than a little surprised when he received his report at the ungodly hour of three in the morning. 

Apparently, his errant spymaster had taken it upon himself to investigate the recent Grimm invasion in Vale's southern district and its connection to Mountain Glenn. There, Qrow pulled on a stray thread that unraveled quite the tapestry of intrigue and, in the process, answered some very old questions surrounding the proto-city's collapse.

Doctor Joseph Merlot was still alive and well. And thanks to the combined efforts of Qrow Branwen and the Specialist Winter Schnee, he was detained in a cell awaiting a trial for crimes against the Kingdom and humanity itself.

At some point during their cooperative investigation, they had found the lingering remnants of the White Fang's operation. A Grimm pack attacked the duo, and a stray claw managed to set off some agitated dust crystals. The whole peak of Mountain Glenn collapsed in on itself. Doubtlessly, it would become a front-page news item come the morning. Already, the twenty-four hour services were broadcasting the breaking news and offering speculations from left over Grimm in the mind to geological instability in the area.

Ozpin was glad the mad man was locked away. His ludicrous  _ obsession _ with the Grimm bordered on madness, and Ozpin was intimately familiar with the consequences of that kind of obsession.

He would've been far  _ more _ pleased at the news had James not had sent one of his officers to spy on Qrow. Wasn't it bad enough that Ozpin had to worry about spies from Salem's camp? Now he has to quell a rising discord between his own subordinates?

James had been doing a lot of that sort of thing lately. The man's heart was in the right place, but these attempts at assist were…  _ misguided _ . They stemmed from the General's need for control and they were rapidly becoming a hindrance.

Ozpin knew the pitfalls of that mindset all too well. 

The elevator door chimed and swished open, footfalls echoed through his office and he knew who it was even before the low gravelly voice addressed him.

"You called Oz?"

"I see you've kept yourself busy since you've been back in Vale. Would you care to explain to me precisely what happened?" Ozpin asked evenly. 

The Headmaster wasn't angry. In the end, no lives were lost, but it concerned him that the massive Wyvern that had lived in that mountain since ancient times had quite suddenly disappeared. He thought that perhaps it was destroyed by the explosion, but the sheer lack of explosive particles during the summit's collapse disproved that. Had the Wyvern disappeared, Vale would have been blanketed by black mist for at least a week. It troubled him greatly.

Qrow simply shrugged and Ozpin turned to face him. Injured by the affair, he neglected his typical jacket and favoured a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and top two buttons undone. Underneath, Ozpin could see the bandages that kept his wound closed.

"I smelled a rat, I chased it and... well, you know how that story goes." 

Ozpin watched with critical eyes as Qrow explained his version of events, finishing off the report with a nip from his flask.

The headmaster had known this man for over half the latter's life, he knew that this was more than just an idle suspicion. He drew in a breath.

"You didn't fail, Qrow." Ozpin said he could feel Qrow's gaze turn on him and imagine the faint traces of confusion playing on it.

"What are you talking about?"

Ozpin closed eyes regarding his one-time student. "I know you well enough to know what you're doing."

Qrow frowned. 

"You think you failed to protect Amber. And you place the blame squarely on yourself. So to make up for it, you are running yourself ragged to quell other threats in the kingdom."

Qrow took a long drag from his flask, but the faint crease of his brow told Ozpin he hit the nail on the head. "Amber's _dead_. Our enemy has the Fall Maiden powers and is rearing to make a move on Vale. How do you define that as anything _but_ a categorical failure?"

"Always the pessimist." Ozpin mused, "This is not the first time that a Maiden's power has fallen into the hands of someone less than sympathetic to our cause. We will hand the matter as we always do, by locating them and... pacifying the situation."

"Fancy way of saying we'll kill the bitch and let random chance decide who dares wins." Qrow said cynically.

Ozpin leaned back in his chair, lips pressed in a thin line. While he'd grown significantly since those days as an almost feral teen, there were times where glimpses of the old Qrow - the one loyal to the pillaging and reaving bandit tribe - would show through. Those times, Ozpin always found it wise to use compassion to remind him those days of his life were over. 

"I want you to keep something in the back of your mind Qrow. I do not blame you for what happened. Sometimes bad things happen. And it was simply a matter of preparedness. The enemy we battle is a cunning one that wears many faces. While Amber's passing is a tragedy, I don't fault you for it."

"I blame myself, Oz." Qrow confessed, "You trusted me with a job. She trusted me to protect her and I failed."

Ozpin considered him for a long moment, watching him take yet another drag from the silver and leather flask. "Then I suggestion you find a way to make it up to the rest of us. And more importantly, to yourself."

"I'll drink to that, old man."

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?" Cinder barked, her eyes glowing with inner fire. She'd found Qrow Branwen that morning, drinking coffee alone in a secluded sector of the academy grounds, browsing his scroll without a care in the world.

When Cinder woke this morning and saw the reports regarding the Vale and Atlas Joint effort to bring in a notorious criminal, with Qrow's face seen in the background, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. What in hell was this moron doing!? "Are you trying to jeopardise the plan?"

Qrow seemed supremely unconcerned by her anger. As far as Cinder could tell, he actually enjoyed it. "I'm not your pet, and I'm not someone you can bully or boss around, so calm down already. Or this time - I  _ will _ put you through a wall."

"We are trying to topple a nation, acting in their best interests is counter productive to our goals." Cinder rebuked him.

"You do understand the part where I am a Huntsman right? I still have a job to do. And I still like getting paid. So why don't you leave me to my plans, and I'll leave you to yours, hmm?" Qrow dismissed her with a wave of the hand, returning to his coffee and scroll.

Cinder grit her teeth. "And exactly what are those plans? If you keep behaving like this, I'll start to believe we haven't truly turned you after all. And if I'm wrong? Well, you'll end up like your friend Amber."

"Didn't I just tell you those sorts of threats don't work on me?" Qrow rolled his eyes, irritated to be distracted from his reading. He glared up at Cinder. "Let me tell you something, Little Miss Cindy - your little lackey isn't here to help you out, and the Old man specifically trained me to hunt down and _kill_ problem maidens. So, show some respect or I might just follow that directive."

Cinder's fingers curled into tight fists. How she would just love to kill him right here, but a corpse would draw unnecessary attention, and they already had enough of a diversion thanks to the Mountain Glenn collapse. "May I ask specifically what your plan is?"

"If you must know, I've been reaching out to an underground cult. A sort of dark shadow to Ozpin's own little group. They want to guide this world their own way, and I think they might be sympathetic to the situation. And the aims of the task at hand."

Cinder sucked in a breath through tightly gritted teeth, then somehow managed to speak in a semblance of a calm voice. "I'll be there for that meeting."

"I'm sure you'd like to be. But I don't take orders from you." Qrow dismissed her entirely. "Besides, the Gray Veil only allow their members to attend their gatherings. You either have to be a member, or be escorted by one. And I've gotta say I'm not particularly inclined to let you walk in with me."

"You--" Her anger surged, and it was all she could do not to summon fire to her hands.

"Oh _spare_ me the playground bully act, girl. You're not intimidating, you're a child trying to play at the adult's table."

"You damn elites, always thinking you're above everyone else."

Qrow rose to his full height, quite literally looking down at the woman who was a foot and a half shorter. "I was born a bandit, you stupid cow. I rose up through blood, sweat and tears. You're just looking for every shortcut you can find so you can put in as little effort as possible. Lazy ass people like you are the kind I hate the most."

Qrow looked at her, giving her an exaggerated once-over. "But…. I suppose I could stomach having you alone. Cheaper than dishing out lien for a lady escort for the evening. Just do me a favour and actually cover up."

With that he left before Cinder could bark a word of protest. Once this mission was over and Vale was ash, she would kill him. She would kill him with an honest to gods smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who was helping Qrow in the past I wonder. Were they helping him? Or another trick of Salem? And what's this 'Grey Veil' business? :)


	16. Dark Hearts Pt 5 - Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Qrow is suffering, Yang and Ruby have a good tease at his expense, and Cinder gets mocked.

_ Fading.  _

_ Everything was fading. _

_ His memories. His questions. Even a sense of self. These things were such distant and nebulous concepts that the nameless man couldn't understand what propelled him to cling so desperately to them in the first place. Why did he need them? Why did he even have them in the first place? _

_ The hostility, the anger, the hatred and pain. All of it was simply... gone. As if a fire had burnt out in that cold dark pit. _

_ Time itself had no meaning. Not that there was anything to mark it anyway. There were only three constants in his existence in the seemingly endless dark - an existence that any sane person would hardly call 'life' anymore.  _

_ The first was the steady withering of his body, leaving little more than skin and bone. The roughly hewn metal cuffs that kept him in place against the wall were loosening by the day thanks to his atrophying limbs. Though he faintly recognised the gnarl of hunger in the beginning - that much he knew - it had long since vanished as a priority. Perhaps he'd simply grown so used to the sensation that he ceased registering it at all. _

_ The second constant in his isolated experience were the visits from the White Woman. If there was rhyme, reason or even a method behind the timing of her visits, the nameless man couldn't even begin to tell. But the rumbling of that door opening and closing were his only external means of telling if time had passed. _

_ The White woman would come, offering safety and companionship. She was always gentle with him, tended to him as a mother would. But there was a voice, a distrustful hiss in the back of his mind, warning him against her. Telling him there was poison behind those honeyed lies. Seemingly without reason, or even truly understanding why, he would deny her. Part of him expected pain in retaliation, but she would simply coo tender motherly words and leave. _

_ That made him want to retch. _

_ When the White Woman was gone, and her echoing footsteps vanished, the third constant in this existence would return. _

_ The Faunas with the broken horns would return. The Nameless Man's only companion in this isolation. The only fixed point he COULD remember. _

_ "You always disappear. When she comes." The nameless man whispered. _

_ He had nothing to him but these exchanges. They remained steadfast and deeply rooted in his mind no matter how much else was peeled away. _

_ Was this a fragment of insanity? Was this Faunas the shredded remnants of a mind simply trying to keep him sane through this torment? Or an insipid presence planted by the White Woman's machinations to push him further into her design? _

_ "I do. It does neither of us good if she discovers I am assisting you. Or that I've assisted others confined in this place. Doubtless she would turn her attentions to me instead, and then she would use means to sever what tenuous connections I have to this realm entirely." The Faunas Prisoner explained. _

_ As he did numerous times before, the Faunas would place his hand on the nameless man's chest and soothe the pain. _

_ The nameless man had long since appreciated these respites. They would speak. Of precisely what? That tended to vary. The Faunas prisoner had identified himself as Zagreus, and would remind his fellow captor that the White Woman's name was Salem. That was he was a prisoner and things to that effect. When the nameless man would ask for more, Zagreus would only provide a little. _

_ Whether it was because he was hiding something, or because Salem would somehow find a way to strip that from the Nameless man too was a question for another time. _

_ "You can… you can make the pain go away, and I can breathe easier… can you break me out of here?" The nameless man asked desperately. _

_ Zagreus sighed, his faded purple eyes half-hooded and exhausted. "There are many things I cannot do. Not for lack of will, I promise you that. All I can do is ease the suffering of those unfortunate enough to be trapped in that would-be usurper’s claws.” _

_ "Usurper..." The Nameless man echoed, his voice a breathy whisper. "You... you called her that before, haven't you?"  _

_ "I have. I'm glad you remember, though I'm not surprised. Not even Salem will be able to take these little chats of ours away. Unlike her, my understanding of the human soul is more...  holistic,  shall we say? " Zagreus answered, he exhaled a quiet breath and met the Nameless man's gaze with a silent sorrowful apology.  _

_ "I'm afraid you can't deal with much more than this. While I can take away the pain for a time, your body is dying. There isn't much else I can do to prevent that, not without alerting the Usurper to my actions."  _

_ The nameless man's chin fell to his chest, despair taking its roots in the very core of his broken being. "How do I know you're not just trying to manipulate and use me like she -- like that Salem woman is?" _

_ Zagreus nodded slowly, an understanding look upon his face. His tone was soft, consoling. "I'd understand why you'd think that. In fact, it's just about the only conclusion you can draw from the situation. A tormentor trying to break your will and a liberator promising succor and salvation. If nothing else, it smacks of an overused cliche and a common interrogation tactic." _

_ "... You're not denying it." The Nameless man accused hoarsely, mustering what little strength he had to glare defiantly. _

_ Zagreus simply hummed, brushing a spare hand over his broken horns. "I see no point in denial. 'Trust' is a limited commodity, and yours has been expended. Especially now of all times, where everything has been erased and you lack the ability to determine what can be trusted and cannot be trusted entirely." _

_ "Use small words, I have a headache..." The nameless man groaned. _

_ "Suffice it to say that I have no love of Salem, as you don't. After all, she has usurped my place while I was bound under this... pathetic farce of a citadel." Zagreus glared down at his palm, as if it held all his frustrations. His fingers closed tightly into a fist which shook violently with rage. _

_ "Can you get me out of here?" The nameless man asked again.  _

_ Where he would go and what he would do after were a complete mystery. No memories, no guidance, no legs. It hurt the lingering scraps of his pride to admit it, but Zagreus was right. He wouldn't make it far. _

_ "I could take your final breath." Zagreus offered, not unkindly. _

_ "Take --- you mean you're offering to kill me?" The Nameless man wasn't exactly opposed to the idea if it meant escaping this hell, but he wasn't about ready to leap to it either. _

_ "Yes." Zagreus agreed with a slow nod, "It will be painless. Peaceful, and I promise that you'll be allowed to rest. In a way, Death is a final freedom. From this life, from its pains and woes, and the final step to the great beyond where you can rest in peace." _

_ "Sounds positively flowery..." Despite everything, it seemed the nameless man's sarcasm weathered his abuses. _

_ "I never said it was a perfect solution, but it is rapidly becoming a merciful one in this case." Zagreus declared, jutting his chin towards the Prisoner's wasting frame. _

_ "There… there are people I have to protect, aren't there?" The nameless man's chin fell to his chest, asking himself more than his companion. He drew a blank, but knew in what was left over of his mutilated soul that it was true. "I don't even remember who. I don't know their names. I don't know their faces. I don't even know where they are or what I'm supposed to do. But... I need to protect them.” _

_ Zagerus glanced up at him, studying the nameless man carefully. His purple eyes narrowed. "What are you willing to give for that chance?" _

_ The nameless man laughed, a weak raspy sound that sounded more like a dying hiss. "What... what have I got left to lose?" _

* * *

"Are you kidding me, Uncle Qrow?" Ruby complained, thrusting a finger towards the news broadcast. "First you warn us off trying to pull off any quote 'whacky heroic shenanigans' unquote - and then you one-up us by pulling in some kind of crazy mad scientist guy with Weiss' sister?" 

"Don't ya think it reeks a little of hypocrisy, old man?" Yang added her own teasing to the mix while Qrow was busy adjusting his shirt cuffs. For some reason, he was wearing a black silk shirt and dark grey vest with embroidery. 

"There's a difference, kiddos. Unlike you two, who are still wearing training wheels, I'm a professional Huntsman. And I've been around the block enough times to handle what some empty plastic scientist whack-job can throw at me." 

"And wrecked a mountain peak in the process?" Ruby pointed out,

"Really? _Really_?" Qrow raised an eyebrow at his younger niece, "You're going to blame me for freak geological accidents? Feeling the love here, pipsqueak." 

The sisters sniggered at his faux offended tone. "So, what's with the get up, Uncle Qrow?" Ruby inquired innocently.

Yang's face split into a wide grin, and she leaned in with a coy tone. "Oh that's right, I saw in the adult league that a certain Lavendel Rosenkreutz was competing. Looking to reignite an old flame there, Uncle Qrow?"

Ruby gasped with delight, stars in her eyes. "Oh my gosh, you have a date with Lavendel?! Is that why you're all dressed up?!" The younger sister dashed across the room, leaving a fluffy of rose petals behind her when she clung to his arm. "PLEASE! Please please please get me her autograph! She's the only one missing from my Team LAZR collection!" 

Qrow rolled his eyes, and Ruby swore to the high heavens she saw just the teeniest little blush colouring his cheeks. But, being him, he just brushed them both off and played it cool. 

"Ruby, Yang - I don't know what you two have going through your heads, but Del and I ended things _years_ ago. Its just a nice dinner between some old friends."

"Yeah, but I always got the impression you guys ended things of a super bad note. You were _pissed_." Yang reminded him, lips pulling in a thin line. "Didn't she shoot you?"

"That was a perfectly legitimate disagreement between two professional Huntsmen. I haven't got a grudge against her in the slightest." Qrow shrugged dismissively.

"I think Yang means _she_ may still have a grudge against _you_." 

Their mutual uncle waved it off, "Just some ideological differences, firecracker. No need to look into it too much. We just didn't want to see eye to eye on some things, but lets just say I've had a change of opinion recently, and I've come to see some merit in her views."

"You sure?" 

"Look, its cute, and honestly precious, that you two are trying to look out for me. And as much as it kills me inside to say it, I've been around in this world a lot longer than you two have. I can take care of myself, okay?" Qrow reassured them both before glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. "Speaking of which, I need to get moving. You two stay out of trouble, okay?" 

"Okay." Ruby sighed,

"Alright." Yang nodded once, but couldn't help adding a jab. "But if she shoots you again, don't come back to the Dorms bleeding out. It takes days to get it out of the carpets!" 

"Your faith in me is _inspiring_." was Qrow's deadpan reply.

Yang chuckled and Ruby cheered after him. "Have fun!"

* * *

Cinder wore the black dust-infused gown she'd worn during the night of the school dance and waited by the docks at nine in the evening like Qrow had instructed her. Though her patience was stretched to breaking point.

The son of a bitch hadn't shown up until an hour later, when the dock was practically void of life.

The optics weren't exactly grand either. Cinder looked like some poor pitiful woman being stood up for a date, and the obvious and not-so-obvious glances of pity sent her way fueled her anger. She loathed those looks in their eyes. She couldn't wait until their plan was in effect and all of these worthless people were consumed by the Grimm and the hellfire that followed.

"Oh my gods, you can actually look like a person and not some painted prostitute. I'd say stellar improvement, but a polished turd's still a turd." The acerbic tone and the insult were about as appreciated as a catheter full of wasps. 

Cinder turned her fury towards her would-be colleague. Though she was having serious doubts about his inclusion in this mission.

Salem's programming was effective, and Cinder had made several amendments to her plans according to his information, but Qrow Branwen's irascible attitude showed through constantly. A lingering side effect perhaps? Maybe some tiny piece of him was still bitter that he failed to save that worthless Fall Maiden girl, and he was taking it out on her in passive-agressive - and not so passive - ways. The thought may have made her fractionally smile, but it didn't change the fact he grated on her nerves. And she couldn't silence him.

She swore her urge to kill him had peaked after their last encounter, and imagine her surprise to find that he still grated on her nerves to such an extend.

"What kind of time do you call this?!" Cinder hissed,

Qrow made a showing of checking his scroll, a black cashing with silver patterns on the corners and back. "Its, uh... 22:08? Gods, who set my scroll to twenty-four hour time? Ick. Better change that back quick." 

Cinder batted the thing out of his hand, sending it clattering away. He simply watched it bounce. "Rude."

"How dare you mock me that way." Cinder growled.

"Well, how would you like me to mock you? I take requests." Qrow replied cheerfully, gaze still on his discarded scroll then glared at Cinder. "By the way, if that thing's broken, you own me two thousand lien for the scroll. That was a custom paintjob. And those fucking insurance cheapskates get real uppity about replacing those." 

"You told me to be here an hour ago, and you have the nerve to --"

"Alright, alright. Calm your farm, bitch queen _._ I had to make a few calls. Shockingly enough, a clandestine group of underworld ringleaders don't like meeting out in the open." Qrow told her, "Who fuckin' knew, right? The White Fang could sure take some notes about it, but who am I kidding - One of Jimmy's little automatons could handle complex operations better than those idiots could." 

Cinder felt the Maiden's fire burning at her fingertips. "I have a name, and if you know what's good for you, I suggest you use it." 

Qrow turned away and moved to retrieve his scroll, giving it a cursory look over before walking back to the transports to Vale. "Oh I know. But using your name implies I respect you on some level. And I really don't. So put that stolen power of yours away, sweet cheeks. And lets get a move on. Otherwise we'll miss the party, and personally, I'm too damn hungry to deal with your whinging." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the prisoner dude with the amnesiac Qrow is named Zagreus (and totally not named from the MC from Hades cause I love that game), Qrow has an old flame called Lavendel in the city - wonder if she'll come in, and once more, he's mercilessly mocking Cinder. A hobby I'm sure we all share.


End file.
